Simplicity
by StarBurnedOut
Summary: After the ending of their respective relationships, Malia and Scott end up turning to each other to fill the void the loss left in them. Set post-5B and diverging from canon from there.
1. 01

**01**

Leaning back against the wall, Scott watched as the room full of teenagers laughed and danced to the loud music. Lydia's annual Christmas party was in full swing, a couple hours in, most people in one of the pleasant stages between painfully sober and falling down drunk.

Not for the first time, he found himself wondering why he'd even bothered coming. Originally, he'd made the choice to skip it, not one for big crowds, especially lately. But Lydia had pushed and cajoled him, telling him the captain of the lacrosse team _had_ to be there, had to set an example, or the whole thing might be a dud. And since this could be her last big party of their high school years, he couldn't possibly let that happen. So he'd agreed to be there, had told himself it would be good to get out, socialise, maybe meet somebody, have a little fun. Kira had been gone for months, and he was definitely feeling the absence. But now, sitting there, bored out of his mind, and feeling absolutely no desire to get up and try to mingle, he couldn't help but question his decision.

As he scanned the room, it looked to him like he might be the only one there not having a good time. Stiles was over in the corner, dancing clumsily with a blonde girl he didn't recognise. Corey and Mason were sitting along the far wall, talking animatedly about something, both smiling widely. Lydia was in her element, somehow managing to sneak in a dance or two as she constantly patrolled her house, keeping an eye on the dozens of party guests spread throughout. Liam and Hayden were around somewhere, though he hadn't seen them in awhile. If he had to guess, they'd found a quiet corner somewhere and were taking advantage of it.

Sighing, he leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, internally debating whether or not he could slip out without Lydia spotting him. After a moment, he decided that no, he probably couldn't. And it was Christmas. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. Which meant he was stuck there for now.

"Come on," he muttered to himself, straightening up and looking back out over the room. "It's a party. Gotta get out there, meet people." But despite his own words, he made no move to stray from his spot, just unable to muster up the will to actually get out and join the crowd.

"You could smile, y'know?" Starting violently, Scott whirled around and found Lydia standing behind him, hands on her hips and her festive Santa hat perched crookedly on her head. "It's a party, not a funeral."

Snorting, he shrugged sheepishly and leaned back against the wall. "I know, I know. Sorry."

"Don't be _sorry_ ," she chided, nudging him with her elbow. "Be _proactive_! Get out there and get busy. Mingle, dance, be merry! It's almost Christmas, Scott!" Grabbing his arm, she pulled him away from the wall and shoved him forward, out into the room, showing surprising strength for somebody so small. When he looked back at her and frowned, she motioned him forward, shooing him on with both hands. "Go on! Find some pretty girl and make her day! Or don't. Just stop lurking by the wall like a creeper!"

Shaking his head, Scott turned and waded into the crowd, feeling her eyes on him the whole way. A couple girls eyed him as he passed by, but he kept moving. The concept of actually stopping and trying to talk to anybody just felt incredibly exhausting. Angling through the mass of people, he made for the far wall, where all the furniture had been pushed to make room for dancing. He figured if he could sink down low enough in a chair, Lydia might not spot him and take another crack at getting him to socialise. As he approached the spot, he found he wasn't the only one who'd had the same thought. Malia was there, sitting low on the couch, and watching the crowd in much the same way he'd been. She looked up as he dropped down heavily beside her.

"Hey," he muttered, leaning toward her to be heard over the music.

"Hey. You look like you're having a good time," she observed dryly.

He huffed out an amused breath and nodded, pursing his lips as his eyes scanned the crowd. "Kinda wishing I'd stayed home," he confided, as he watched Corey and Mason leave the wall and head onto the floor.

"Why'd you come?"

"I don't know. Lydia sort of talked me into it. And I thought it might be a chance to cut loose a little bit, y'know, have some fun, if you can believe it. You know how Lydia's parties are. It's like a... a lost night or something. Seemed like a good opportunity to tune out real life for a while and have a good time." He shrugged, smiling sheepishly as he shook his head. "Hasn't worked out."

Suddenly, he caught a flash of red moving through the crowd and immediately sank down as low as he could. A grin spread across Malia's face as she watched him try to peer through the mass of bodies, to see if he'd been spotted. "Are you hiding from Lydia?" she asked, amusement dripping from every word.

Scott hesitated for a second, keep close watch until he was sure their friend wasn't coming over. "Yes," he said emphatically, after letting out a sigh of relief. "She's just very..." He spread his arms, frowning, searching for the word. " _Forceful_."

She snorted softly. "She is that."

Now that he was safe, at least for the moment, Scott focused on his companion, who'd gone back to watching the crowd. "Surprised you're not out there," he said, nodding toward the floor.

"I was. Just needed a little break."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but paused then as Stiles suddenly came into view, still with the blonde girl from earlier. From the corner of his eye, he saw Malia's lips tighten into a thin line as she spotted them. Things had been strained between the former couple for a little while after everything, as they danced around each other, unsure of where they stood. It got awkward enough that he and Lydia had finally stepped in and forced the two to talk things out. Things had improved after that, as they seemed to settle in as friends, but looking at her face now, he wondered if maybe things weren't quite so clear-cut after all.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching over and touching her arm, drawing her attention to him. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." The response was automatic, sharp and accompanied by the clenching of her jaw and narrowing of her eyes. But he knew her, knew when she was posturing, and met her look with a raised eyebrow. She held his gaze defiantly for a second, then sighed and rolled her eyes, all the fight leaving her in an instant. "All right, so maybe I'm not _completely_ fine. But I'm getting there." As she spoke, her eyes darted back to the floor, where the blonde had grabbed Stiles by the hand and was leading him away.

"It's hard, isn't it?" he asked softly as they watched the girl pull their friend from the room. When she turned, a questioning look on her face, he gestured toward the door they'd just walked through. "Seeing him with somebody else."

"Not hard. Definitely a little strange," she admitted. "He was mine, and now he's not, and it's weird seeing him with other girls. But we've been through for months now." She drew in a deep breath and nodded resolutely. "We're over and I'm okay with that."

Scott nodded, and they lapsed into silence. He couldn't help but think about his own split. It hadn't been easy to let Kira go, but she knew what she needed, what was best for her, and he wasn't about to get in the way. She'd made it clear that she loved him, but she didn't want either of them to get hung up on waiting for the other. There was no way to know when her training would end, when she'd regain the control she needed to be around people again. So they'd said their good-byes and ended things as friends. For the first few weeks, he'd been hopeful she'd come back soon, but that faded over time, and finally he'd accepted the reality, that waiting around for something that might never happen was neither smart nor healthy. He needed to move on with his life.

"You know what I miss the most?"

The question, asked in a voice much softer than he was accustomed to hearing from her, drew him from his own thoughts. "What's that?"

"The... I don't know, intimacy, I guess. Of being with someone." She leaned back and looked at him, a frown twisting her face. "And I don't just mean sex. I mean all of it. I didn't really think of it when we were together, y'know? I just—I knew I could go to him whenever I wanted to and it would be okay. I could tell him anything. I could fall asleep with him and know he'd be there in the morning. I always had a place to go when I needed it. And then suddenly I didn't. That was just... just gone." She shook her head. "I didn't realise how much that meant until I didn't have it anymore. You know what I mean?"

He knew exactly what she meant. He'd struggled with that himself after Kira left. Was still struggling with it, if he was being honest with himself. That sudden lack of closeness had been jarring, uncomfortable. He couldn't count how many times he'd reached for his phone intending to text her with some little thing he'd thought of, or something funny he'd seen, only to realise she wasn't going to answer. It left him feeling a little empty inside.

"Yeah, it's not easy," he said softly, a sad smile on his face.

"But relationships are hard too." She waved her hand weakly toward the crowd, full of couples, dancing and enjoying themselves. "It's not all like that. Every time I think about trying again, I start thinking about how the hell I'm supposed to explain everything to some random guy. Am I supposed to tell him I was a freaking coyote for eight years? That seems like a good way to make a normal person run away screaming. Or do I try to hide everything? How are you supposed to explain away why you suddenly have fangs or glowing eyes? I mean, my control is way better now, but still."

"Hey, I get it. You're preaching to the choir here." Leaning back, he pursed his lips, then blew out a heavy breath. "I've thought about all that too. How many times has one of us had to drop everything and rush off to deal with some new threat? _Sorry I had to bail on our date, but a giant monster in bone armour and a freaking bear skull was trying to murder all my friends so I had to go tear its head off_. Not really an explanation for somebody who doesn't know about... everything." She let out a snort at that and he smiled. "It wasn't anything I ever had to worry about with Kira, or with Allison. They were always right there with me. But now..."

"Yeah." She sighed, then buried her face in her hands and let out a little frustrated growl. "Why does it have to be so hard? I don't want hard, Scott. I want easy. Is that too much to ask?"

"No, of course not." But even as he said it, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was.

Silence reigned between them again as they both stared out at the crowd, lost in their own thoughts. Sitting there, on the outskirts, as happy couples and friends danced and laughed and had a good time, Scott suddenly felt painfully, hopelessly lonely. Frowning, he looked at her and saw a lot of what he was feeling mirrored in her face, her eyes.

Abruptly, Malia huffed out a breath and rose to her feet, swinging around to face him and holding out her hand. He had just enough time to shoot her a bemused look before she grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet. "Come on," she said, nodding toward the dance floor. "Enough talk. You said you wanted to have fun, right? Let's dance."

With an amused smile on his face, he didn't resist as she pulled him onto the floor. He could use a distraction. When she arched an eyebrow in challenge, he grinned and shook his head, giving her his other hand and letting her pull him close, get him moving. For the first time all night, he finally let go and gave into the music, the atmosphere, and just went with it, feeling her move with him, around him, carefree and easy. The rest of the room, the people fell away as he concentrated on her, on letting go of his thoughts and just dancing. It was easy with her. He didn't have to try, didn't have to force anything like he would have with somebody he wasn't close to.

"Having fun?" she yelled over the music, cheeks flushed, eyes flashing as they moved to the beat. He just nodded, unable to get the grin of his face.

He really was having fun. It felt good to be close to, to be touching a pretty girl again, even if she was just a friend. It felt good to move and sweat and not have to think about anything but that. His cheeks hurt from grinning, and from the look on her face, he figured she was enjoying herself as much as he was. When a new song came on, even more up-tempo than the last, she let go of him and spun around, pressed her back against his chest. His hands dropped to her waist as she moved against him, her hair flying his face. When she looked back over her shoulder and winked at him, he couldn't help but laugh, caught up in the moment.

Scott wasn't sure how long they spent out on the dance floor, but he was in no hurry to leave. He was relieved when the music changed to something a little slower though, the heat starting to get to him a bit.

"You're a better dancer than I thought," Malia said breathlessly, her arms loosely thrown over his shoulders, looking into his eyes, a little smirk on her face.

He shot her a crooked grin. "Thanks, I think. You're not so bad yourself."

Suddenly, one of the people around them bumped into her from behind, driving her into his chest with enough force to send him stumbling back a couple steps. He tightened his grip on her waist as he steadied himself, fully expecting her to turn around and tear into the guy. But instead, she stayed tight to him, her face pressed into his shoulder. He looked down, a little confused, just as she looked up and met his gaze.

"What?" he asked, frowning at the unfamiliar expression on her face. It was almost like she was assessing him, considering.

Abruptly, she pulled back and grabbed his hand. "Come on." Before he could reply, she started pulling him toward the door. He stumbled over his own feet, nearly crashing into a nearby couple, but quickly righted himself and let her drag him through the crowd and out of the room. The next room was full too, people sitting around, drinking and talking, but they didn't stop, heading over toward the staircase that led up to the second floor. As they reached the stairs, she went left, around the side and down a short hallway that led to a bathroom. More confused than anything, he let her lead him inside, stepping back and watching as she closed the door, then turned back toward him.

"Malia, what are—"

Before he could get the words out, she pushed him back against the wall, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

At first, he was too surprised to do anything, going rigid as she worked her lips against his. This was Malia, Stiles' ex, one of Kira's best friends. Dancing with her was one thing, but kissing her? That was another thing entirely. She was a member of his pack. She was a friend. She was... a gorgeous girl, pressed up against him, and kissing him like she meant it. All those thoughts flashed through his head in an instant, disappearing as quickly as they came as he relaxed into the kiss, his hands going to her hips as he gave into her insistent efforts.

"Wow," he said, a little breathless, when she eventually pulled back and looked at him, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. "Are you—I mean... what... I—"

She cut off his stumbling efforts with another kiss, crushing her lips against his as her fingers tangled in his hair. He didn't think this time, pulling her tight against him and giving back as good as he got, revelling in the taste, the feel of her, of kissing someone again.

Slowly, they broke apart again, breathing heavily, and Malia trailed her hands down his shoulders, pressing them flat to his chest. For a second, they just looked at each other, eyes locked.

"So..." he finally said, dragging out the word. "You, uh..."

"You came here to have fun, right?" she interjected, as he struggled to find the words. Snapping his mouth shut, he nodded. "So did I. I'm lonely, Scott, and I know you are too. Now, we could go back out there and find somebody to kill time with. But we're both single. We _like_ each other already. I know you find me attractive." She tapped her nose at that point and smirked as his cheeks flushed. "So why don't we just, y'know, give it a shot, see what happens? It's just one night."

For a moment, Scott was frozen, looking into her eyes as he considered her proposition. He saw the merits, he couldn't deny it. He was lonely. She was attractive. And hooking up with somebody who he already liked and trusted sounded better than some random girl he'd never spoken to before. There were obvious issues there too, of course. They were friends, which could get real messy, not just between them, but with the rest of the pack too. Was it worth it?

Before he could go too far down that path, a part of him gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. He was tired of over-thinking things, of putting other people ahead of himself. They both wanted the same thing, and were completely capable of giving it to each other. That was simple. It wasn't like she was asking him to marry her. She just wanted to have a little fun. That only had to be as complicated as they chose to make it. Maybe in the morning, he'd worry about Kira, about Stiles, about all the ways things could go wrong. But for now, it was just too tempting, too easy not to give in.

"You know what? Yeah," he said, nodding as his heart started to beat a little faster, anticipation rearing its head. "Yeah, let's—let's do it."

She arched an eyebrow, a little smile twisting her lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he repeated, nodding again, voice stronger, more certain. "You're right. We're both single. We both want the same thing. So, I mean, why not, right?"

This time, when she came in to kiss him again, he was ready. Turning the tables, he reversed their positions, meeting her challenging gaze for a second before he slid his hands under her and lifted her off the ground, walking her back and setting her down on the sink. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he slanted his lips over hers. She let out a little moan and leaned her head back as he kissed his way along her jaw and down the side of her neck and back. When he nipped playfully at her lower lip, a little growl burst free and her eyes flared blue.

"Upstairs," she murmured, locking eyes with him as he pulled back a bit. "Lydia's got a bunch of guest rooms..."

"Let's go."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

As he buttoned up his shirt, Scott looked over at Malia and couldn't help but grin when he found her looking back at him. Neither had said a word since they'd finished, just sharing a lingering kiss before they separated and redressed on opposite sides of the room.

If he was being honest with himself, he was a little surprised at how comfortable the silence was. Now that he wasn't distracted by her or the heat or anything else, he half-expected to feel a little guilty, or at least strange about things. He'd just had sex with one of his closest friends, a member of his pack, the ex-girlfriend of the guy he considered his brother. But there was none of that. He felt good about what had just happened, and not just because it had been amazing. They'd both needed a release, a little closeness, an escape, and they'd found it in each other. He couldn't bring himself to feel bad about that. The only negative he felt was a slight twinge of apprehension at the thought that maybe she wasn't feeling as good about things as he was. She was grinning just as much as he was, every time he looked over at her, but he couldn't read her mind.

"So," he finally said, breaking the silence as he stepped toward her, over near the door. "That was... all right, right?" He winced at the uncertainty in his voice.

Instead of replying, she reached out and fisted her hands in his shirt, yanking him toward her. His arms instinctively went around her as she pressed her lips to his, this kiss softer, gentler than any of the others they'd already shared.

"Yeah," she said a second later, as she pulled back, lips quirked up in a little smile. "It was all right."

"Any regrets?" he murmured, looking into her eyes.

"No," she stated decisively. "You?"

"None. I, uh, did you want..." He gritted his teeth, then let out a sigh and shook his head, a sheepish smile creeping across his face at the questioning look that formed on hers. "This—this stays between us, right? Not that there's anything wrong with it!" he blurted out when she started to frown. "It's just—did you want... people to know?" He didn't say the name, but he knew she'd know exactly who he was talking about.

Slowly, she shook her head. "No, you were right earlier. This is a lost night. We needed each other. Now everything goes back to how it was."

They fell silent again, just staring at each other, neither quite sure what to do next. Scott knew they had to get back out there, before Lydia came looking for them. But he was reluctant to go, to end their encounter, and from the look on her face, it seemed like she was feeling the same. Once they went through that door, they were just friends again, two people with their own problems and own lives. He didn't think anything had changed in that regard, but it was so easy to pretend when they were still together, close, their brief moments of intimacy a taste of what they'd both so sorely been missing.

"I guess we should probably..." He trailed off, nodding toward the door without breaking eye contact.

"Yeah," she said, and he could hear the same reluctance in that single word that he was feeling. He couldn't but smile then, glad to know she seemed to be just as hesitant to put an end to whatever it was they'd just experienced.

Shooting him one final soft smile, Malia finally turned and reached for the door knob. Cracking it open, she peeked out into the hallway, making sure nobody was lingering outside, then opened it wide and stepped out. He followed her out, closing the door behind him, and waited until she disappeared around the corner before he slowly made his way back toward the on-going party. Stopping next to the stairs, he watched her back as she disappeared into the next room. Then he headed in the other direction, toward the kitchen, deciding a drink sounded pretty good at the moment.

When he got to the kitchen, Scott found a young couple making out, but they quickly vacated the room when he walked in. Shaking his head, he huffed out an amused breath and grabbed a soda out of the fridge, downing half of it in one shot as he looked around. Every surface was littered with empty bottles and plastic cups and the other remnants of a successful party.

As he leaned back against the counter, wincing a little at the scratches Malia had left on his back, the door swung open and Lydia stepped into the room. She paused briefly when she saw him standing there, then continued forward. "I thought you'd snuck out," she said, joining him at the counter.

"Nope. Just doing what you said," he replied, unable to keep the grin off his face. "Mingling, being merry, and all that."

She hummed softly, eyes slightly narrowed as she looked up at his face. He kept his expression purposely blank, heart suddenly pounding hard. Lydia was smart, and entirely too observant. If anybody was going to figure out what he'd been up to, it would be her. But after a brief moment that somehow felt like an eternity to him, she relaxed, a wide smile spreading across her face as she nodded.

"Good, I'm glad. This is really going well. Much better than my Halloween party."

Scott let out a snort at that. "Hey, that wasn't really anybody's fault. I mean, sure, Stiles was kind of responsible. But he was just trying to make things more... thematic, I guess."

One eyebrow arched in disbelief as she looked at him. "Thematic? He nearly poisoned everybody!"

"It was an accident. Those canisters were _not_ properly labelled. And it _was_ pretty cool at first, all foggy and spooky. Until, y'know, everybody started passing out."

"Oh yeah, it was great," she said dryly. "The fact I was able to convince _anybody_ to come tonight is a minor miracle. And I had to promise not to let him anywhere near this place until everything was set up." She sighed and shook her head, frowning heavily. "Why are we friends with that doofus? It's basically like committing social suicide."

Holding up his hands, Scott grinned and shrugged. "Hey, don't look at me. I've been friends with him since back when people would have said the same thing about me. You're the one who made the choice to chain yourself to this anchor."

"And I regret it every day."

Her severe frown lasted a few seconds when he burst out laughing, before slowly softening into a smile. While he got the amusement out of his system, she watched him closely, eyes focused on his face, assessing.

"What?" he asked a moment later. "Something on my face?"

She shook her head slowly, studying him searchingly. "No. I just—you seem different suddenly. Looser. I mean, I'm not saying you were _sad_ or anything, but you've seemed really down the last few months." It was clear from her tone she knew exactly what had been sapping his good mood. "I can't remember the last time I heard you laugh like that. It's nice."

Scott didn't know what to say to that. He did feel looser, lighter than he had in awhile. And not just because of the sex. It had felt really good, really freeing to get out of his own head for a little while, to just live for a bit. And now, on the other side, he found that the heaviness wasn't pressing down on him quite so hard. At least not yet, anyway.

For her benefit, he shrugged and said, "I had a good time tonight. This party... it helped." Enough truth to feel authentic, and it didn't hurt to stroke her ego a bit. And from the smile that formed on her face, he figured it worked. Perfect deflection. "I think I'm gonna take off now though, if you don't mind. I'm kind of tired."

"Sure." She gestured around the room. "It's not like I need help cleaning this up or anything." When he hesitated, she rolled her eyes. "I'm _kidding_. Go. I'll get Stiles to give me a hand with all this. That's the price of my friendship. Oh, wait." He paused, already halfway to the door, and looked back, raising an eyebrow. "Tuesday. I talked to everybody else and that's the day that works best for everybody to do a Christmas lunch. Liam and Hayden are spending Christmas day with his parents, and Stiles has a thing with his dad, but everyone's free Tuesday. You _will_ be there." It was clear from her tone she wasn't asking.

"Yes, Lydia, I'll be there," he assured her. She'd been talking about the lunch for weeks, wanting to get the whole pack together. He wasn't sure why it was so important to her, but it clearly was, and he wasn't going to be the one to mess it up. "I'll even come early and help you set up if you need me." At her surprised look, he grinned. "Hey, I'm in a good mood. Don't question it."

"Fair enough," she said, amusement colouring her voice. "Go on. I'll text you if I need you."

Raising a hand in farewell, Scott headed out of the kitchen and made his way toward the front door. A couple players from the lacrosse team waved to him, but most of the people he passed were either too drunk or too distracted to notice him. Outside, he paused and drew in a deep breath of cool air, taking a second to look up at the starry sky, before he headed for where he'd parked.

As he headed around the side of the house, he suddenly picked up a familiar scent and stopped. "I thought you'd gone back to dance some more," he said, smiling as Malia stepped away from the wall, toward him.

She shrugged. "Didn't really feel like hanging around anymore. Are you going home?"

"Yeah. Lydia actually let me go," he said, grinning. When she just nodded, he frowned, suddenly picking up on a weird tension in the air. "Is everything okay? Did you need a ride or something."

"Or something," she muttered absently, shifting a little and looking off somewhere to their left as she crossed her arms. He kept quiet, recognising the signs that she was building up to something, and happy to let her get there in her own time. "So, listen," she eventually said, eyes suddenly focusing on his. "I was thinking that... well, it's still early and... oh, screw this!" Before he could move or say anything, she stepped forward and kissed him, lips moving hungrily over his. When she pulled back a moment later, she cocked an eyebrow and said, "Lost night, right? Well, the night's not over yet."

He couldn't keep the smile off his face then. "No, it's not." Reaching out, he grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers as they looked at each other. "My mom's working tonight, so..."

"Let's go."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _So, in most of my stories, it always takes some near-death experience or something of the kind to finally get Scott and Malia together. I wanted to do something a little different this time. With that in mind, this one's just gonna be a short little thing where our favourite couple just has a good time. The goal is to keep things light, so consider this a warning if that's not your cup of tea. I'll save the darkness for my next story. As always, let me know what you think._


	2. 02

**02**

For a second after he snapped back to wakefulness, Scott wasn't sure what had prompted it. Blinking, he shifted in his warm bed and looked around his room, mind and vision still clouded by sleep. It was dark, still night, the only light coming through the window from the sliver of moon hanging in the sky.

Sudden movement to his left drew his eye, and as he took in the sight of Malia gathering her discarded clothes from the floor, memories of their night together abruptly came flooding back. Her arms around his waist as they rode back to his house. Her hand in his as he led her inside. Her lips on his, eager, demanding, as they stumbled up the stairs, barely making it to his room before they were pulling each other's clothes off. The actions that followed, the taste, the feel of her, the sounds she'd made as they lost themselves in each other. The few moments that followed, before they slipped into slumber, warm and comfortable, limbs intertwined.

"Hey," he said quietly, voice husky, as he sat up and leaned back against the wall. "What are you doing?"

Pausing, she straightened up and turned toward him, shirt clutched in her hands. "I'm gonna take off," she said, jerking her head in the direction of the door. "Your mom will be home soon, right? I should probably be gone before then."

"You don't have to leave." The words were out of his mouth before Scott could stop himself, but as she froze, corners of her mouth ticking up slightly, he realised he wanted her to stay. It felt good to sleep next to someone again, to share his bed, to feel the warmth of another person pressed against him. It felt good to sleep next to _her_. Abruptly feeling strangely nervous, he shot her a crooked smile and shrugged sheepishly. "I mean, my mom's just gonna crash as soon as she gets home anyway. She's not gonna check in on me. So you can stay the rest of the night, if you want to."

Malia hesitated for a second, then dropped her clothes and slowly rounded the bed, sliding back in next to him. He waited until she was settled, bed springs creaking as she got comfortable, then stretched back out, tense and suddenly hyper-aware of the space between them. Staring up the ceiling, he found himself wondering what the right move was, if he was supposed to reach for her, if that was okay, or if he was supposed to let her figure out what she wanted first. He wasn't entirely sure how things were supposed to go now, after the sex was over, once heads cleared.

An instant later, his mind was put at ease when she suddenly rolled toward him, slinging an arm over his chest and draping a leg across his. "You don't mind, do you?" she murmured, snuggling closer to him, pressing into his side.

"No," he blurted out, cringing a little at the relief he could hear in his own voice. "No, this is fine."

She was quiet for a second, then said, voice soft, "It is, isn't it?"

A little confused, he turned his head to look at her and found her looking back at him, an odd expression on her face. "What do you mean?"

"This." Lifting her hand off him, she gestured to the two of them. " _Us_. Being here, like this, with each other. It's fine. It's better than fine. It feels... I don't know. But it doesn't feel weird, which is kinda weird itself, right? I mean, last week if you would have asked me how I'd feel after sleeping with you, I probably would have said 'strange'."

He let out a snort, shaking his head. "Ouch, my pride."

"I didn't mean it like _that_ ," she chided, rolling her eyes as she slapped her hand back down on his chest hard enough to draw a little grunt and a grin from him. "I just mean I figured the sex would be pretty good, and everything after would be awkward as hell for a little while." She trailed off and shrugged, her fingers absently tracing little patterns on his chest.

"But it's not, right?" he prompted after a second, suppressing a shiver at the sensation of her fingers on his bare skin.

"Not yet. We'll see if that changes when the sun comes up."

Huffing out a little amused breath, he turned on his side so he could look directly at her. "I really don't think it will. I didn't see... _this_ coming, but you're right, it doesn't feel weird. It feels really good, actually. We—wait." Tilting his head, he narrowed his eyes, brow furrowed. "What do you mean you figured the sex would be good? Have you... I mean, is this something you've—"

"What, thought about before? Yeah, once or twice." At his surprised look, she smirked. "I'm not blind, Scott. Don't let it go to your head or anything, but you're kind of hot. And you're strong like me, so I don't have to worry about, y'know, holding back or whatever. Plus you heal really quick, so if we got a little crazy, you wouldn't be out of commission for long." Pausing, she looked at his face, at the astonishment there, and arched an eyebrow. "What? These are the things I think about sometimes. Usually during math class."

He couldn't help but laugh softly at that, reaching over to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "Solid use of your time. But now I'm curious. Did I live up to your expectations?"

"Are you fishing for compliments now?"

"No, I—"

"Kidding, Scott, I'm kidding. You were great." Then softer, "This was great."

Lifting her hand, she brought it up and cupped his cheek, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a hard, passionate kiss that left his pulse racing and his breath short. Rolling over onto his back, he drew her over him, one hand going to the back of her head as the other slid down the smooth expanse of her back, coming to rest on her hip, pulling her tight against him.

When Malia broke the kiss a moment later, she didn't pull away, her face hovering over his. "Want to do this again?"

He frowned. "You mean go again?"

"No. Well, yeah, actually, but not like you're thinking. I mean, like, another night. Or day, or whatever. When we do it isn't really the point." Pausing there, she grimaced and shook her head, then sat up and took a deep breath. "What I'm asking is do you want to make this a... a regular thing?"

For a moment, he just looked up at her, letting the significance of her question slowly sink in. Even if the words themselves were a little clumsy, the sudden uncertainty, vulnerability in her voice, her eyes, written on her face made it clear just how important the moment was. Suddenly it wasn't just about one night of sex, one night to put aside whatever issues they were having, and find a little peace in one another. It was about doing something a little more real, lasting, something they couldn't just pretend never happened if things didn't go so well.

"You, uh, you want me to be your booty call?" he asked, voice as light, as teasing as he could make it as he tried to buy himself a little time.

But she didn't smile. "No. I want fantastic sex with somebody I, y'know, _care_ about. I want to be able to lie in bed and just talk, like this. I thought this would be weird, but it's not, and I think that's a sign." Pausing, she reached down with both hands and gently clasped them to his cheeks, tilting his head so she could look directly into his eyes. "This doesn't have to be complicated. We like each other, we work well together, and we both want the same things. So we give them to each other."

"You think that could work? I mean, what about everybody—"

"Listen, it's nobody's business but ours. This is between you and me. Not our friends. Not _Stiles_. Us."

"And if you meet someone else next week?" he asked quietly.

She huffed out a little breath and shook her head. "Then we'll deal with that then. Don't over-think it, Scott. Did you have a good night?" He nodded. "Me too. I had a great night. I'm happier than I've felt in awhile, and I don't think the sex is the only reason. I'd _really_ like more of that. How about you?"

He did. He really did. She was right. And the longer he looked up into her wide eyes, the harder it was to see any of the reasons why he might say no. What their friends would say if they ever found out. How it could throw off the whole pack dynamic if things went poorly. What it could do to the friendship they already shared. All those thoughts were there, floating around in his mind, slowly drifting away. When her thumb absently began to stroke the side of his face, any protests he may have made disappeared completely, washed away by the sensation, by the look on her face, by her presence.

"Yeah, that sounds..." He trailed off, then grinned and reached up to cover her hands with his own. "Let's give it a shot. But," he quickly added when she started to beam, whole face lighting up, "I just want one thing first." She frowned, but motioned for him to proceed. "We need to be open with each other, all right? If anything changes or... we decide we want different things, or that this just isn't working, we talk about it and figure it out quickly. I don't want—I mean, you—" Shaking his head, he sighed. "You matter to me, and I'd rather stop this than mess up that, you know?"

For a second, Malia was silent, just gazing into his eyes. Then she nodded, slowly, a little grin spreading across her face. "Yeah. That's a good idea."

"I do have them sometimes."

Instead of replying, she leaned down again and initiated another kiss. It was much softer this time, gentle, but just as lingering, as full of emotion. When she finally pulled back, they were both breathless and flushed. He could hear her heart racing, matching his own, and if the look on her face was any indication, she had that same pleasant warm feeling inside as he did.

"Okay," she said, patting his cheek softly before she drew her hands away. "I really do need to sleep now. Lydia wants to hang out tomorrow, and I'm exhausted." With that, she climbed off him and stretched back out alongside him, curling into his side once again.

Comfortable silence fell then as they lied there, waiting for sleep to reclaim them. Scott stared up at the ceiling, listening to her breathing and her heartbeat even out. Suddenly, his lips began to twitch, until a full-blown grin broke out a second later.

"So... fantastic, huh?"

" _Shut up_!"

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"All right, hold on, Liam," Scott said, putting an arm out to stop the younger werewolf before he could start forward. "Hey! You all right, man?"

Across the field, Stiles was doubled over in front of the net, hands on his knees, lacrosse stick discarded carelessly on the turf next to him. At Scott's shout, he looked up and briefly raised a hand in acknowledgment before slumping back down.

"Why did we put him in net again?" Liam asked, lifting his stick up and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Because he's the only one of you I can actually score on," Corey interjected glumly from his other side.

"Well, that's why we're here, right?" Scott smiled encouragingly at the chimera, then looked back at Stiles and frowned. "All right, take five, guys. I'll go..." He trailed off and sighed, shaking his head. "I'll go make sure he's not dying."

Leaving the two standing there, he jogged over to Stiles, who looked up as he approached and managed a weak smile that looked more like a grimace. Up close, he could see the sweat pouring down his best friend's face, could hear how hard he was breathing. "Why are you so out of shape, man?" he asked, crouching down next to him. "You realise practice starts for real, like, two days after holidays end, right? Coach is going to _murder_ you if you look this bad then."

"Hey, it's not all about being out of shape," Stiles gasped out between laboured breaths. "I'm also extremely hung-over. And I haven't done anything strenuous in like a month. And I think I've earned just a little bit of leeway from Coach by now, right? I've been on the team for _years_." He looked up at Scott, who just silently shook his head. "Yeah, you're probably right. No loyalty." He paused then, and drew in a deep breath. "All right, I'm good. Gonna just... slowly... nope. Hey, could you just... sorta... stand me up? Please and thank you. There we go."

Getting him straightened up, Scott got under his arm, and slowly began to walk his friend over toward the bleachers, where Liam and Corey were standing, talking to Mason. "Be honest with me," he said, as they slowly made their way forward. "How much did you drink last night?"

"Too much," Stiles admitted. "But I had a good time. Totally worth it."

"Really?"

"No, of course not. I wanna die right now. Set me down here." With some manoeuvring, Scott managed to get him seated on the lowest part of the bleachers, where he sank back with a groan and began rubbing at his temples. "Ugh, why did I agree to do this today?"

"Because you're a good friend," he replied, taking a seat next to him. "Corey wanted extra practice, and it's our duty, as his friends and as team leaders to help him out."

"You're a team leader. I'm a bench-warmer," Stiles said dryly, before wincing and pressing his palms against his eyes. "Why is the sun stabbing me? Oh God, please just kill me now!"

Letting out an amused snort, Scott patted his friend's shoulder sympathetically, then leaned back, and looked out over the field. Three hours they'd been at the school, trying to help Corey with his shots, something he'd asked them for just before winter break started. Coach had told them before school ended he'd be there throughout the holiday, so they could come in whenever they wanted. Christmas Eve had lined up as the day to do it, with everybody being free. Hayden was doing some family thing with her sister so she'd be free to spend Christmas day with Liam's family, so he was eager to find a way to kill the day. They'd all shown up after lunch and got to work, as Mason watched from the stands, cheering on his boyfriend as he worked on some school project.

Things had started off well enough. It was a warm, sunny day, and everybody was fired up, ready to go. But Corey quickly grew discouraged with his inability to score with Liam in net. Stiles was still mostly holding it together at that point, so he and his human reflexes got drafted to take over. It worked for awhile, before the drinking and the general lack of fitness caught up to him. The fact Liam seemed to really enjoy making him move and work hard only made the whole situation worse.

"All right, here's what we're gonna do," Scott said after a few minutes had elapsed. Standing, he looked over at his friends and jerked his thumb toward the field. "Liam, you're back in net. And take it easy, okay?" He stared his Beta in the eye and raised an eyebrow, not blinking until he got a reluctant nod in return. "Corey, we're gonna work on your aim, all right? And Stiles..." He looked down at his best friend, who'd taken his shirt off and tied it around his face. "You just sit here and take it easy, buddy."

Stiles flashed him a thumbs-up. "Great plan. Love it."

For the next hour, Scott was in his element out on the field, patiently helping Corey work on his shots, watching the chimera's slow but noticeable progress. He really did feel it was his responsibility, as captain, to do whatever he could to help his team improve, and he took satisfaction in doing just that. He kept up the encouragement, even when he took his turn in net, and was proud to see Liam follow his lead, giving pointers and praise freely. It left him feeling good, both about them and the future of the team once he graduated.

"Hey," Corey said, after putting a particularly well-placed shot past Liam and grinning at the scowling werewolf. "Looks like we've got some company." Leaning on his stick, he pointed to the bleachers.

Turning, Scott spotted two familiar forms sitting in the stands with Mason. He was showing off his notebook to Lydia, who was reading over whatever he'd written, an interested look on her face. Next to her, Malia was looking out over the field. More specifically, she was looking right at him. When their eyes met, he lifted a hand in greeting, feeling the grin already forming on his face. Abruptly realising how weird that would look to his friends, he quickly schooled his features into a less visibly elated expression and cleared his throat. "Let's take a break, guys," he threw over his shoulder as he headed for the stands, ignoring the grumbles of his two teammates.

As they approached, the girls made their way down, meeting them on the sidelines. "Making progress?" Lydia asked as Liam and Corey continued past them, going up to sit with Mason.

"Some," he replied, shooting Malia a quick smile and getting one in return before he focused on Lydia. "It's all about practice, y'know, repetition." His eyes darted up to Corey, who was laughing at something Mason had said, then back to her. "He's getting better. So, what are you two doing here?"

Smiling sweetly, she batted her eyes at him and clasped her hands in front of her. "I need a little favour."

Instantly wary, he frowned, unconsciously leaning back a bit, away from her. "Okay... What do you need?" he asked cautiously.

"Remember how I said I was going to clean up my house last night?" He nodded. "Well, things _kinda_ got out of hand after you left and everything is... well, I wouldn't say _trashed_ necessarily, but—"

"I would," Malia interjected. Catching his eye, she shook her head. "The place is a mess. It looks like a dump."

"It's not _that_ bad," Lydia protested, frowning at her friend for a second before she refocused on him, suddenly smiling again. "But I could use another pair of hands to help clean up. Or, y'know, maybe a couple pairs."

"Yeah, all right," he said after a second, shrugging. "I think we're pretty well done here anyways. Hey, guys!" Everybody looked at him. "Hit the showers. We're gonna go help clean up Lydia's house. No complaining. You were all there. You helped mess it up." Without much argument, Corey and Liam started heading for the school, Mason tagging along behind them. As they walked off, he turned and gestured toward Stiles, who was stretched out on the ground, looking extremely pale. "Not sure how much use he's gonna be."

To his surprise, Lydia levelled a glare at their stationary friend and crossed her arms. "Just leave him here!" she snapped. Not giving him a chance to react, she turned on her heel and stalked off, heading for the parking lot.

Confused, he looked at Malia, eyebrow raised in question. "Uh, what was that about?"

Smirking, she leaned closer. "She caught him making out with that blonde after we left last night and I think she's jealous," she said in a conspiratorial whisper. "She won't admit it, but I'm pretty sure that's what's going on."

"Oh." He paused. "And... are you... I mean—"

She scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine."

Before he could respond, Stiles suddenly let out a loud groan, drawing their attention to him. "Scott? Scott?" he called as he sat up, reaching for the shirt still tied around his head.

"Right here, man."

"Am I dead yet?" he asked, tossing his shirt aside and blinking around blearily.

"Not yet." Walking over, Scott crouched down next to him. "Feel any better?"

"Ugh. No." Leaning forward, he stuck his head between his knees and let out another groan. "I'm never drinking again. And I may never play lacrosse again. Or leave my house. This is awful."

"I could put you out of your misery," Malia offered, flicking out her claws.

"Ha ha ha. You're so funny. You should do stand-up."

Snorting, Scott shook his head and rose, extending a hand down to Stiles. "All right, come on," he said, as he hauled his friend up off the ground. It took some effort, and more than a little pained cursing from the hung-over teen, but eventually he was on his feet and standing under his own power. Turning, he pointed him toward the school and patted his shoulder encouragingly. "You know what'll make you feel better? A nice, hot shower."

"Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Can't Even Get Drunk?" was the hoarse reply he got.

"Yes. Now get moving."

On unsteady legs, Stiles started forward, one hand shading his eyes. Scott quickly gathered up his stick and shirt, and then fell into step next to Malia, trailing after their hung-over friend. When she slowed her pace, letting Stiles get a little farther ahead of them, he took the hint and slowed down as well.

"So?" she asked softly when he turned to look at her.

"So what?"

She rolled her eyes. "No problems around Stiles? No urge to tell him about us?"

"Oh. No. Nothing like that." He paused, tilting his head and shooting her a curious look. "Were you worried about that?"

"No!" When the corner of his mouth twitched, she sighed, looking away. "All right, maybe a little bit. I know you, Scott. You're all..." She waved her hands weakly, frowning, "stupid and, y'know, _honest_. I thought you might feel bad about keeping something like this from him and let your conscience get the better of you." Then she stopped, her expression lightening as she looked at him appraisingly. "But you didn't."

"I didn't," he confirmed, shrugging. There had been a brief urge to confess when Stiles had first pulled up in front of his house. He wasn't used to keeping things from his best friend, after all. But then her words had floated through his mind, strengthening his resolve, and as they'd gone about their day, the impulse to spill his guts had disappeared completely. "You were right. It's our business and ours alone. So don't worry, all right?"

"Yeah."

Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze as they shared a soft smile. They didn't linger, breaking apart before Stiles could turn around and spot them, but even after she let him go, he could feel the little tingle on his skin where she'd touched.

When they reached the school, Malia headed around the side, going to join Lydia in the parking lot. Scott followed Stiles into the locker room, meeting Liam and Corey, who were both dressing. He quickly laid out the plan for them as Stiles stumbled into the showers, then sent them off to wait. As he went to take off his own sweaty clothes, he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of heaving coming from the showers and grimaced.

"Hey!" he called out. "You all right in there?"

"Yeah. Just... just literally puking up my soul!" Stiles yelled back. "I'll be all right. Just give me a minute."

Leaning against the nearest lockers, he crossed his arms and waited. A couple minutes later, he heard the water shut off, a moment before Stiles reappeared, still pale and sickly, but upright and moving fairly steadily.

"I think I got it all out," he stated, patting his stomach gently. "I hope so, anyways."

"That's good. We're heading to Lydia's to help her clean up. You up for giving us a hand?"

"No, I think I'm just gonna head home." Pausing, he pulled a disgusted face, then stuck out his tongue and rubbed it frantically with a finger. "Oh God, I think this is what death tastes like. Gross. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Lydia will kill me if I puke on any of her stuff."

Scott smirked, knowing he probably wasn't far off the mark, especially given her current mood. "All right, man. Text me when you get home." Stiles muttered an agreement, then wandered off toward his locker.

Heading into the showers, Scott gave a wide berth to the one Stiles had used, wrinkling his nose as he passed it. He spent a little longer under the scalding spray than he'd intended, letting it wash away the sweat from an unusually warm day, but eventually, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back out to his locker and the clean clothes he had stashed there. Head down, he was humming to himself, not paying attention as he rounded the corner, so he was caught completely off-guard when he suddenly found himself pushed back against the nearest wall. He had an instant to look up in shock before Malia was suddenly pressed up against him, her lips on his, her hands on his bare chest. His initial surprise quickly disappeared as he gladly mirrored her efforts, arms going around her waist, pulling her tighter to him.

"Not that I'm complaining," he said breathlessly, a wide smile on his face, when she finally broke the kiss, "but what are you doing? I thought you were going to wait with Lydia."

"Got bored," she murmured, pausing to trail a line of kisses along his jaw. "And since you were in here, and mostly naked, I thought I'd come and take advantage of it." As she spoke, she slowly dropped her hands, dragging her nails down his chest and stomach, pausing directly above his towel and drawing a shiver from him. Pulling back a bit, she met his gaze and arched an eyebrow. "Now shut up and enjoy it."

The next few minutes were a blur as Scott happily gave into her, to her lips, and her hands, and the feel of her against him. But it couldn't last forever, and eventually, he put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back.

"We should get going," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "Lydia will probably come looking for us soon."

Malia sighed, and he could see the reluctance on her face, but after a second, she nodded. "Yeah, you're right." Backing away, she sat on a nearby bench as he opened his locker and grabbed his clothes out. "I told her I was just going to grab something from my locker. Probably can't stretch that excuse out much longer." Suddenly, she paused and took her phone out. "Yeah, there we go, right on cue." She typed up a quick reply, then looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, I like this view."

Grinning, he caught her eye and winked. Since she'd shown zero interest in turning away, he'd just dropped the towel and started dressing, past the point of being shy around her.

"All right," he said a moment later, as he finished lacing up his shoes. "Let's get out of—"

"McCall! You still in there?" They both turned toward the door at the voice, just as it opened and Coach Finstock walked in, wearing a ratty old bathrobe, and carrying what looked like a tuxedo. He spotted Scott first and stepped toward him, freezing when Malia came into view. "What are you two doing?"

"Getting dressed."

His eyes narrowed as he looked from one of them to the other, but neither offered any further information, and after a moment, he shrugged. "Whatever. I don't care. Get out of here. I'm leaving soon, and I've gotta lock up."

Scott nodded, but couldn't contain his curiosity. "Uh, Coach, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm gonna shower. And then I'm gonna put on this suit, because Coach has a date tonight! God, it's been so long." Hanging his head, he shook it sadly, before abruptly perking back up, a manic grin on his face. "But I'm back in the game and looking to score!"

"Gross," Malia said, wrinkling her nose as Scott grimaced.

"It _will_ be gross! And so awesome. Now, if you don't mind..." Stepping to the side, he gestured to the door and pointedly motioned toward it with his head.

Malia rose to her feet, ready to leave, but Scott stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Yeah, but why are you doing that _here_?" he asked, gesturing around the locker room. "At the school, I mean. Is your shower at home broken or something?"

"No. My house is currently being fumigated. Termites." He frowned and shook his head, eyes wide. "I tried to get them out myself, but they're smart, McCall, smarter than you'd think. So I'm spending Christmas sleeping in my office. That's why I'm here. Why did you think I was at school during a holiday? Because I wanted to be? Ha! Sixty-three percent of the bad things that have happened to me in my life happened in this... _hell-hole_!" Pausing, he took a deep breath and shook his head, then nodded toward the door again. "Can you just... can you..."

"Yeah, sure, Coach. Have fun on your date." Grabbing Malia's hand, Scott hurried past the older man, eager to get away before he said anything else crazy.

"Hey! You guys should come back next week. We can do Christmas Karaoke. It's the most fun you can have without doing hardcore drugs! And—" The door closed behind them then, cutting off whatever he was about to say, and they both let out sighs of relief.

"That was weird," Malia said, as they walked away from the locker room, slowing their pace now that they'd escaped.

"He's a weird guy."

"Understatement of the year."

They lapsed into silence then as they headed for the school's main entrance, hand in hand. It struck him as a little funny how warm that made him feel, such a simple thing, especially after what they'd already done together, but he liked it. That closeness, that contact, was something he'd really been missing. Absently, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, drawing a smile from her as they approached the doors. Pausing there, they reluctantly let go and just looked at each other.

"I kinda wish you'd stayed out there," he said after a moment, jerking his head toward the parking lot.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"Because," he said, shooting her a crooked grin, "now all I'm gonna be thinking about the rest of the day is touching you, and that's gonna be hard to do with everybody around."

It was her turn to grin then, as she stepped forward, bringing her face to within inches of his. "Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "If it helps, think of this. Last night, we had a lot of fun in your bed. Tonight, we can try out mine." Leaning in, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then turned and pushed through the door, leaving him standing there, shaking his head in amusement as he watched her walk away.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _Good characterisation is hard. So is writing something that doesn't have any real conflict when you're not used to doing that. I think it turned out all right though. It's supposed to be light and happy, and I think that's what it is. I think I might add in some minor supernatural issue or threat just to give everybody something to do in the next chapter. Other than that, look forward to more of whatever this is, I guess. Again, let me know what you think._


	3. 03

**03**

"Merry Christmas, Scott."

He was only half-asleep when Malia leaned over him, whispering the words before she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Reaching up, he cupped the side of her face and deepened the kiss, luxuriating in the sensation of it, the feel of her lips, the warmth of her, and of the bed they'd shared.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured as she pulled back, a wide smile on her face. She was kneeling on the bed next to him, and as he looked at her through half-closed eyes, at the happiness on her face and the way the sunlight shining through the window behind her caught her hair, he felt a pleasant swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach. Swallowing down the sudden urge to say something sappy, he reached out and grasped her nearest hand in his own. "So, what's the verdict? Which is better, my bed or yours?"

Letting out a little amused breath, she shook her head. "I don't know. Was sort of preoccupied. I think we might have to test them both out again." The suggestive grin she flashed him then was enough to get his heart beating faster, a jolt of anticipation shooting through him.

Clearing his throat, he sat up then, leaning back against the headboard and rolling his shoulders. They'd ended up at her house after finishing up at Lydia's, an effort that ended up stretching on far longer than he'd anticipated. Malia hadn't been exaggerating much with her assessment of the state of their friend's home, and even with six of them working, it hadn't been easy. But eventually, they'd gotten things to the point where even Lydia's perfectionist eye couldn't find anything wrong. They'd made their excuses and left as soon as they could, after hours of veiled looks and secret touches while nobody was looking, and went straight to her house, which was blessedly empty, her dad out of town on business. And they'd taken full advantage of that fact.

"So..." she said, dragging out the word as they continued to look at each other. "Breakfast?"

"Yeah." Even as he answered her, he felt his stomach let out a little growl. Lydia had fed them all well while they helped her out, but after the night he'd had, it felt like he hadn't eaten in days. Throwing back the covers, he slid out of bed and stretched, sighing in relief each time something cracked. When he turned, he found Malia watching him closely, a little smirk twisting her lips. "What?"

"Nothing," she quickly said, shaking her head, expression clearing. "You should put some clothes on though."

"You're not getting shy on me all of a sudden, are you?" he teased, even as he bent and snagged his jeans and boxers off the floor.

"Hey, if it was up to me, you'd never wear clothes again." Crossing her arms, she slowly ran her eyes up and down his body appreciatively, drawing a slight flush to his cheeks. His reaction wasn't lost on her, her lips quirking up in a self-satisfied smile as their eyes met. "But my dad's friends drop by unannounced all the time. I nearly gave one of them a heart attack one morning, so, y'know, lesson learned."

Snorting in amusement, he shook his head, but obediently pulled on his pants as she turned and disappeared through the open door. On bare feet, he padded softly after her, following her out into the kitchen, where she was in the middle of getting out the toaster.

"I can't cook," she called over her shoulder as he leaned in the doorway, watching her, "so your options are toast or whatever you can find in the fridge. Help yourself."

Shaking his head, Scott made his way to the fridge and looked inside. It was nearly empty, but he found a carton of eggs and some cooked bacon that still smelled good. "You got a frying pan?" he asked as he pulled it out and stepped over to the stove. When she turned to him, eyebrow raised in question, he held it up and grinned. "I _can_ cook." Then he frowned, tilting his head. "Well, sort of, anyway. I can definitely make an omelette."

"Good to know. What do you need?"

She quickly grabbed all the stuff he listed, and he went to work, easily going through the familiar steps. With his mom working as much as she did, he'd been fending for himself since he was a kid, and had long ago learned to make a lot of simple dishes for all three meals.

"Wow," she said softly once he got everything together and on the stove-top to cook. "This is, uh, kinda domestic, isn't it? I mean, we spend the night together and now here you are, making us breakfast, looking all..." She paused, brow furrowing slightly as she searched for the right word. "At home or whatever. On Christmas."

Scratching absently at his bare chest, he shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "It's just an omelette."

She arched an eyebrow. "Is it?"

Leaning back against the counter, Scott crossed his arms and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe it's more than that. Is that—I mean, are you okay with that? Or..." He knew how he felt, how right it seemed to him to be standing there with her, comfortable, at ease. It wasn't something he'd ever really pictured before, he could admit, but it still felt good. But he also knew that wasn't necessarily what either of them had signed up for, and he couldn't help but worry that maybe this was just a little too far past what she wanted from or with him. He wasn't picking up anything obvious in her scent either way, and his foot began to tap nervously on the floor as he waited for her response.

"No, it's... I like it," she finished decisively, locking eyes with him. "This, what we're doing, feels good, but it also feels easy, _way_ easier than I expected, honestly. So, I don't know." She shrugged, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I think we just sorta do whatever feels right, and if one of us starts getting uncomfortable, we deal with it then. Right?"

Mirroring her smile, he nodded as she stepped toward him. "Yeah, that sounds good." Reaching out, he pulled her into the loose circle of his arms and kissed her, soft and lingering.

"For the record," she murmured against his lips a second later when they broke apart, "feel free to cook for me whenever you want. I will _never_ not appreciate offerings of food."

Leaning back, he chuckled at that, then gave her another quick kiss, and gestured toward the table. A minute later, they both dug into what he'd managed to make. It was pretty good, he decided, after a few bites. Not his best effort, but not bad. And the way Malia was going at it, he figured she had no complaints.

"So," he said, between bites, "big plans for today?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. Gonna FaceTime my dad later." Pausing, she pushed what was left of her food around her plate, then shrugged. "He wanted to be home, but something came up. Lydia invited me to dinner tonight, but I got the feeling she was just being polite. I think I'm just gonna stay home, watch a couple movies or whatever Christmas specials are on. "

"Rudolph, huh?"

"I do like deer," she said, catching his eye and grinning. "What about you?"

"I've got lunch with my dad. As far as I know, anyway. He hasn't called to cancel yet." He couldn't quite keep all the bitterness out of his voice. It was no secret that despite their recently improved relationship, there was still a lot of built-up resentment towards his dad on Scott's part. When he saw her start to frown, picking up on his mood change, he forced a smile. "That's just this afternoon though. Dinner with my mom tonight is the one that really counts. She likes to go all-out on Christmas and it's pretty great. So much food."

"Sounds nice." She smiled as she spoke, but she couldn't completely hide the slightly melancholy undertone to her words.

For a moment, they fell back into silence as they cleaned their plates. Chewing slowly, Scott watched her, internally debating. "Hey," he finally said, drawing her gaze to him. "If you want, you could have dinner with me and my mom. It's nothing fancy or anything, just me and her, but you're welcome to come." He floated the offer out there slowly, cautiously.

Across the table, Malia went perfectly still for a second, eyes locked on his. "You don't think that might be a little... _weird_ , or awkward or whatever?" she asked, voice soft.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I mean, we're friends, right? Everything else aside, we're definitely still that. And friends spend Christmas together sometimes. I can't even count the times Stiles has ended up at my house 'cause his dad got called into work. And," he added, a teasing grin spreading across his face, "as long as you can keep your hands off me, I'm pretty sure we can act normal around my mom for a couple hours."

Huffing out a little amused breath, she rolled her eyes. "I don't know if I can manage that," she said dryly. "You're just so irresistible."

"If it makes it any easier on you, I _will_ be wearing a shirt."

They lapsed into silence then, grinning at each other, and Scott felt that same sensation from earlier in his stomach. It felt better than he would have thought to just sit there with somebody he liked and joke, tease, play around. He joked around a lot with Stiles, and Lydia, and even her, of course, but this was different, warmer in a way. There was a sense of intimacy there that just didn't exist between him and any of his friends, or hadn't, and he'd forgotten how much he missed having that with somebody.

"I think I'm gonna pass, Scott," she finally said, as she grabbed her plate off the table and stood up. "I was actually kind of looking forward to a night in by myself. Thanks, though. I appreciate the offer."

"No problem." He shrugged as he followed her over to the counter and bent to start loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. "If you change your mind, just give me a call or whatever."

As he straightened up, Malia came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, locking her hands over his stomach. "So..." She drew out the word as he clasped his hands over hers and leaned back into her. "When are you supposed to meet your dad for lunch?"

"Twelve-thirty."

"That's still three hours from now."

Scott grinned at the blatant suggestion in her voice. "Yes, it is. If only there was something we could do to pass the time."

Her breath felt warm against his back as she let out a burst of laughter. Then her hand was in his and she was turning him, leading him, pulling him out of the kitchen, back toward her room, and the escape that awaited them there.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"Hey, hey, stop that!"

Grabbing a wooden spoon off the counter next to her, Melissa whacked Scott across the knuckles as he reached past her to grab a piece of turkey. He let out a hiss of pain and quickly drew his hand back, shaking it back and forth.

"Ow! Did you have to hit me so hard?" Despite his words, amusement was shining in his eyes as his mom waved the spoon threateningly under his nose.

"No stealing food, Scott! Dinner will be ready in like ten minutes, so you can just wait. Got it?"

Holding his hands up in surrender, he slowly backed away, a big grin on his face. "Got it. I'll just be over there." She watched him closely, eyes narrowed, until he took a seat at the already-set table. Then she turned back to the bowl of potatoes she was in the process of mashing and went back to work on it. He watched her silently, a little smile on his face, and breathed in the familiar, delicious smells of Christmas dinner.

"So, how was lunch?" she asked after a moment, throwing the question over her shoulder without looking.

"Good, good," he replied. "I mean, kinda awkward, yeah, but it was all right. We didn't fight at least, and dad said he's gonna stick around in Beacon Hills for a few days. He said something about maybe getting dinner tomorrow or the next day. That might be nice." He didn't want to get his hopes up, but the man had seemed sincere, and he had been doing better lately. They were a long way away from having a good relationship, but it seemed like things were finally moving in that direction.

"That's great, honey, I'm glad." Looking back at him, she grinned. "Did he get you anything good?"

Chuckling, he nodded. "Yeah. I'll show you later."

Before either of them could say anything else, there was suddenly a loud knock at the door. "Can you get that, Scott? I'm wrist-deep in potato here."

"Yeah, sure."

Frowning, he rose and made his way toward the door. As far as he knew, they weren't expecting anybody. He was pretty sure Stiles wasn't going to show up, after stopping and checking in on him before lunch. The Sheriff had been adamant he wasn't going into work for anything less than a murder this year, and while Stiles had finally recovered from his night of drinking, he didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave his house. Other than him, Scott couldn't think of anybody else it could be. So when he opened the door and saw Malia standing there, he was a little surprised.

"Hey," she said softly, shifting from foot to foot as his eyes widened.

"Hey." Tilting his head, he studied her face searchingly. "What's up? Decide to take me up on my offer after all?"

"Yeah. I mean, if that's all right. I decided I didn't want to be alone on Christmas. And as tempting as dinner with Lydia is, I... I think I'd rather be here. With you." There was just the slightest waver in her voice, the smallest bit of hesitation before her admission, but she met his gaze unflinchingly as a warm smile slowly spread across his face. Before he could reply, she suddenly leaned forward and inhaled deeply through her nose. "Plus, your mom is a great cook. It smells _awesome_."

Grinning, he shook his head and stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. "Come on, you can tell her that. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

For a second, she hesitated, looking past him, into the house. Her eyes moved to him, then away, then back again, before she shook her head. "We're not... I mean, this isn't too much, right? I know what I said earlier, but..." She focused on him, narrowing her eyes. "I really don't want to make things weird with us, Scott."

"It's just dinner, Malia. It's Christmas, you're a friend, we've got the room and the food. Anything else is..." He shrugged, searching for the words, "secondary, for tonight."

She eyed him for a second, lips pursed, expression hesitant. Then, "Okay. If you say so. Oh, I didn't bring anything. Should I have brought something?" Pausing, she looked down at her shirt and frowned, tugging at the hem. "How do I look? I didn't want to go too fancy or whatever. Should I have dressed up more? This is only like my second Christmas in the last ten years and—"

"Malia, relax." Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and squeezed, as she stilled, her eyes locking on his. "You didn't need to bring anything. We've got everything we need. And you look great. Really great." The smile on her face then could have lit up a room, and with a gentle tug on her hand, he pulled her through the doorway and into the house. "Come on. Dinner's almost ready."

Giving her hand another squeeze, he let her go and nodded toward the kitchen. As she made her way past him, she brushed her hand gently across his chest, and as he closed the door and trailed after her, he shook his head in amusement.

"Scott, who was at—oh." Malia paused in the kitchen doorway as Melissa turned toward her, just as he came up behind her. "Hi, Malia. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

Putting his hands on her shoulders, Scott gently pushed her farther into the room, meeting his mom's surprised gaze over her shoulder. "Her dad's out of town, so I invited her to have dinner with us," he explained, as he directed her over to the table.

"Oh ," Melissa said, her expression immediately clearing. "In that case, welcome to the feast. The more, the merrier, and all that jazz. Go ahead and take a seat. Scott, can you grab her a plate and start getting everything on the table? I'm just about done here."

He quickly did as his mom asked, while Malia sat back at the table and watched him work. Their eyes kept meeting as he brought the food over, and each time they did, he felt a pleasant, warm feeling in his chest. When he finally finished, and took a seat across the table from her, she very obviously nudged his foot with hers and winked, the corner of her mouth ticking up in a barely-visible smile, and he couldn't help but grin back.

If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't entirely sure what they were doing with each other. He liked it, he _really_ liked it, but only a couple days in, he was pretty sure that whatever it was, it was already different than what either of them originally intended. Being around her, with her was the easiest thing in the world right now. It made him happy on a level he wouldn't have predicted, and having her here with him on Christmas felt good, felt right. And he wasn't going to over-think it. He was just going to enjoy it.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"Remind me again why we're doing this."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles glared at Liam, who just stared back, one eyebrow raised. Walking slightly behind them, Scott let out a quiet sigh and fought the urge to just turn around and go back home. All the pair had done since they'd picked him up from the curb outside his house was needle each other and it was really getting on his nerves.

"Once again, for those of us who are a little slow," Stiles said, earning a rude gesture from the younger teen, "we're going to the morgue to look at a body the cops brought in last night. The report called it an animal attack, but I saw the pictures, and I don't think that's what it was. I need you two to prove me right, all right? You got that, buddy? Simple enough for you?"

"Stiles, enough," Scott said, interjecting himself into the conversation before either of them could really lose their temper. "You too," he added, when he spotted the smug smirk on Liam's face. Stepping between the two of them as they approached the main entrance to the hospital, he shook his head and pointed inside. "When we get in there, both of you need to keep a lid on it. I really don't want to spend my New Year's Eve sitting in the police station because one of you got us busted sneaking into the morgue. Got it?"

He held Liam's gaze until he got a reluctant nod from him, then turned to Stiles, who snapped a mock salute. "Yes, sir, Commander Scott. Whatever you say, sir."

The three fell silent then as they made their way inside, heading for the elevator just past the nurse's station. Despite the fact his mom wasn't working today, Scott was such a familiar face around the hospital they didn't even draw a second look from anybody. Everybody looked busy, enough people with minor injuries and ailments hanging around to keep all the staff preoccupied, so the trio made it into the elevator without being noticed.

"You guys going to the Countdown tonight?" Liam asked, as the door slid shut.

The Countdown was the name of the Beacon Hills New Year celebration. Every New Year's Eve, they closed down the street outside city hall, set up a stage, some food vendors, and some massive screens for an open party that led up to a countdown to the new year beginning. Local bands played, most people had a good time, and the night ended with an impressive fireworks display second only to the city's fourth of July celebration.

"I'll be there," Scott confirmed, reaching out and hitting the button for the proper floor. "My mom and I go every year. It's kind of a tradition, I guess."

"Think I'm gonna stay in," Stiles muttered, leaning back against the side of the elevator and crossing his arms. Sighing, he shook his head glumly and pursed his lips. "No point in going if—just no point in going."

Scott and Liam both shifted uncomfortably, fully aware of what was wrong with their friend. Lydia had been avoiding him ever since her party, and it was really getting to him. Rather than talking to her and trying to fix things, he'd thrown himself into trying to find some supernatural problem, going through all the open police files he could find, calling everybody all hours of the day and night to look into whatever new threat he thought he'd found. What he saw as a welcome distraction, the rest of the pack saw as a growing annoyance. It was part of why Liam was going at him so hard, and why Scott's tolerance for their banter was much lower than usual. He'd tried to talk to his friend, convince him to go see Lydia and figure their situation out, but Stiles just kept waving off his efforts, changing the subject, ignoring it.

The uncomfortable silence lasted until the door slid open and they disembarked, heading down the hall toward the morgue. Quiet became a necessity then as they neared their destination, and Scott concentrated, holding his breath and listening closely for any heartbeats, any signs there was anybody inside. When he didn't pick up on anything, he gestured for his companions to head inside, then followed them in, taking one last look around to make sure nobody was watching.

"All right," Stiles said as he headed over to the body chambers, "Scott, give me a hand here. Liam, you're the lookout. Wait by the door, put those super ears to good use."

"Are you kidding me?" Gritting his teeth, Liam turned angry eyes on him, jaw clenching and nostrils flaring. "Is that why I'm here? I was supposed to spend today with Hayden. Why did you even bother bringing me? Scott's hearing is exactly the same as mine! He could have been the lookout!"

Looking up, Stiles arched an eyebrow and pointed at the angry werewolf. "Okay, first of all, lower your voice. We're not supposed to be here, remember? That's why we need a lookout. And second, Scott's my partner in crime. He's like the... the Bonnie to my Clyde."

Next to him, Scott grimaced and shook his head. "Really? Couldn't think of a better example?"

"Sorry, Bonnie, I'm a little off my game today. But it doesn't matter. The point is Scott isn't a lookout. So that jobs falls to you, little wolf-man." Pausing, Stiles shook his head. "You weren't my first choice, if it makes it any better. I texted Malia, but she didn't text me back. I don't know where she is."

Scott quickly turned away from his friend then, carefully schooling his face into a blank expression. He knew where she was. When he'd left his house, she'd been passed out in his bed after a particularly fun morning. He'd put in a token effort to wake her up when both their phones had gone off, but when she'd just rolled over and buried her head under a pillow, he'd given up. He'd learned, over their week together, that she really didn't like being woken up early and it was in his best interest to just let her sleep. A quick kiss on her shoulder and he was out the door, to chase what he was pretty sure would be yet another dead end with his best friend.

While the other two continued to snipe back and forth with each other, Scott focused on the task at hand, scanning the tags on the drawers until he found the one with the number Stiles had given him. "Found it," he said, as he pulled it open to reveal a body covered by a white sheet.

The other two gathered around then, as he grasped the sheet and slowly folded it back, revealing the corpse beneath. He and Liam both grimaced as the unmistakable, unpleasant smell of death hit them full force, lingering around the body despite the cold. The face of the man was unremarkable, pale but unblemished, but when the sheet slid lower, the cause of death became clear. There were vicious slashes in his chest and abdomen, deep and ragged, clearly made by some kind of claws.

"Oh, man," Liam breathed, leaning closer for a better look at the gaping wounds. "That's freaking brutal. Kinda wish I hadn't seen it."

"Yeah, well, you were supposed to be watching the door," Stiles muttered.

"Shut up."

Before they could start up again, Scott huffed out an annoyed breath. "Both of you shut up." Ignoring the pair of indignant glares his words drew, he gestured toward the body. "Stiles, these look like animal claws to me. I mean, they could be from a werewolf, or another shifter, but I don't know, man. What did your dad say?"

"Mountain lion. But it's _never_ a mountain lion, Scott. You know that."

"Yeah, except for that time it was."

Stiles scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "That doesn't count. Go on, take a sniff. You could smell another werewolf, right?"

"I don't know. I'm not getting anything. Liam?"

"Nothing. Just dead guy smell. They must have washed him off."

Gritting his teeth, Stiles slapped the steel drawer hard. "Come on, guys, work with me here. Maybe you could... I don't know, see if your claws match his wounds. Kinda just... y'know, stick your fingers in there and see if they fit. Oh, don't give me that look."

The look in question was the one of disbelief on Scott's face as he stared at his friend. "What the hell, man? I'm not sticking my fingers in some dead guy. Are you out of your mind?"

"But—"

"No, no, stop." Grimacing, Scott grabbed the sheet and pulled it back into place, then pushed the drawer closed. "We came, we saw, we've got nothing. Now let's get out of here before anybody catches us." Stiles opened his mouth, probably to protest, but he cut him off with a raised hand. "Give it up. You tried, but there's nothing here. This poor guy was hiking in the wrong place and paid for it. That's it. Come on."

Turning, he headed toward the door, Liam at his side, and after a second's hesitation, Stiles fell into step behind them. Another quiet, uncomfortable elevator ride followed, where he could smell the frustration pouring off his friend, but knew there was nothing he could say to help. The silence continued all the way out into the parking lot, where Liam split from them, saying he was gonna call Hayden for a ride. It wasn't until they were back in the jeep and leaving the hospital that the silence finally ended.

"You ready to talk about it yet?" Scott asked softly, pointedly keeping his gaze focused ahead, through the windshield.

"About what? The dead guy?"

"About Lydia."

"What about her?" he asked, trying and failing miserably to be nonchalant.

Frowning, Scott turned in his seat and looked at his friend. "Come on, man, stop playing dumb. Things are... strained between the two of you. They have been for a week. Her big dinner was like torture. It was freaking _painful_ watching you two try to avoid each other. You need to fix it, because this is just... it's too much. I can't keep watching both of you sulk. You need to talk to her. You _need_ to figure it out."

For a second, Stiles hesitated, a muscle in his jaw twitching noticeably. "I don't know how," he finally admitted, tension colouring his voice, as he drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. "I mean, she's pissed at me, clearly, but I don't know why. I didn't _do_ anything. And she won't tell me what's wrong."

"I—uh... wow." It hadn't occurred to him that his friend had yet to figure out the problem. Stiles was a smart guy. He always figured things out. "Dude, think about it for a minute."

"All I've done is think about it!"

"Really? I'm gonna give you a hand here, dude, because this is just..." Scott let out a noise of disbelief and shook his head. "The party. You remember it? What happened that night? What did you do?"

"I don't know... I drank a lot. I dumped some beer on Liam. That was fun." He pursed his lips, considering, then shrugged helplessly. "That's pretty much it. I danced. I..."

"You made out with some girl."

"Uh, yeah, I guess I did. But what does that..." As he trailed off, Scott could see the realisation dawning on his friend's face. Abruptly, Stiles hit the brakes, stopping the jeep dead, and turned to look at him, eyes wide, mouth gaping open. "Oh my God! Are you saying Lydia is... _jealous_? And that's why she's pissed at me?"

"I'm not gonna put any words in her mouth," he quickly said, "but think it about it. You two have been getting closer lately. We could all see it. I'm pretty sure you've spent more time with her these last few months than with me. And I'm not saying that she was secretly into you or anything, but clearly seeing you with somebody else did something to her. And it's not just me, all right? Malia said the same thing, so, y'know, I'm not just pulling this out of thin air."

Stiles didn't respond for a solid minute. Mouth still open, he just stared at Scott, who could see the gears slowly turning behind his eyes. "Oh, man," he finally said, disbelief thick in his tone. "Oh, man, how did I not see that? Any of it? I thought she was just—I don't know. It's Lydia, y'know. _Lydia_. I can't believe—do you really think she likes me?"

"Yeah, I do."

The elation on his face in that instant was almost comical. The horror that replaced it a second later was just as vivid. "Oh. I really screwed up, didn't I?"

"Well, you kinda stepped in it, yeah, but don't freak out. You just gotta talk to her, man." Scott smiled sympathetically and reached over to clap his friend on the shoulder. "She knows you. Talk through it, tell her the truth, that you're blind and kind of dumb, and just go from there, all right? I mean, it can only help. And then you can maybe stop calling me every two hours, looking for some threat that isn't there." He couldn't keep the hope out of his voice.

"Okay," Stiles said slowly, drawing the word out and nodding. "Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I can do this. I'll just talk to her. And then maybe... no, can't get ahead of myself. Need to actually convince her to talk to me first." As he spoke, voice low, more like he was talking to himself than anybody else, he started forward again, resuming the drive to the McCall house.

Next to him, Scott looked out his window, trying to hide his grin. He could smell the determination in Stiles' scent now, much stronger than the traces of apprehension, trepidation. One way or another, his friends were going to figure things out soon. As long as they were open with each other, he knew they'd work it out. He'd done his part. Now all he could do was hope Stiles didn't lose his nerve, and that Lydia would actually let him explain himself. It was almost a new year. Time for things to change, hopefully for the better.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"Remember where we parked," Melissa said as she locked the car and stuffed the keys in her pocket.

Grinning, Scott tapped the hood. "Right here."

"Funny," she said, nodding and pursing her lips as he chuckled to himself and walked over to her. Together, they started down the street, toward the lights, music, and crowds they could already see and hear despite being a block away. "Seriously, though. When it's time to go, you'd better be here. You know how bad the rush is. If you think I'm waiting for you in the middle of all that, you're crazy, buster."

"I'll keep that in mind. Think I'll probably catch a ride with one of my friends though." Malia was supposed to bring Lydia, since the latter's car was in the shop, so he figured he'd jump in with them. Or Stiles, though he wasn't sure if he was even coming. After their morgue visit and subsequent chat, he hadn't heard a word from his best friend.

"Okay. But don't call me if you change your mind, 'cause I'm not coming back."

"Don't worry, mom," he said, amusement colouring his voice. "I know where you'll be. How many days to get over the hang-over this year, you think? Two or three?"

It was another holiday tradition, this time for his mom and a bunch of the nurses she worked with. After midnight on New Year's Eve, once the Countdown wrapped up, they all got together at one of their houses and threw their own party. It was essentially just a chance to drink as much as they could and cut loose a bit, and they tended to take full advantage. Every year, Melissa said she was just going to have a good time, and every year, she came home the next day, completely hung-over, and swore she was never going to drink again. And she mostly kept that promise, right up until the new year rolled around, and it all happened again.

"Hey!" she cried, digging an elbow into his side, drawing a laugh from him as he tried to block her. "I'll have you know I plan to drink responsibly tonight, young man. I've learned my lesson." Then she grinned, shrugging and holding up two fingers. "Two days at the most. Mark my words."

They were both still chuckling when they reached the first area with crowds in it. The way things were set up, the street was divided into three fairly distinct sections. The first one, the one they were in, was where the food vendors and those selling New Year's merchandise were set up. Farther down the street, a stage was set up, where local bands were performing all night. Past that, at the end of the street, right outside city hall, was the final area. A couple large screens were hung there with a running countdown projected on them, along with a podium where the Mayor would lead the crowd in counting down the final seconds before midnight.

"Well, I'm getting a hot dog," Melissa declared as the smells of food and chatter of excited people surrounded them. "You want something?"

"Yeah, I think I'll..." He trailed off then as he felt his phone go off in his pocket. Sliding it out, he checked his messages, finding two from Malia.

— _Are u here yet?_  
— _We're waiting outside the pharmacy_

Holding up his phone, he waved it as his mom and shrugged sheepishly. "Never mind. I'm being paged." She just waved him away, already heading toward the nearest food cart, so he slipped his phone back in his pocket, and headed up the street.

He spotted the girls before they saw him. They were leaning against the front of the pharmacy, up on the curb, away from the mass of bodies in the street. "Hey," he said as he stepped towards them, drawing two sets of eyes and a chorus of greetings to him. Malia smiled when their eyes met, and he had to resist the urge to grin back. Instead, he looked from her to Lydia and back again, brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "Why are you standing here? There are picnic tables just down there." He jerked his thumb back in the direction he'd come from.

"Stiles wanted to meet us here," Lydia quickly informed him. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she rolled her eyes and huffed out a little breath. "He's been texting me all day, wanting to talk, all right? I told him we could talk here." She paused, gesturing to all the people crowding the street. "I'm less likely to strangle him with this many witnesses around."

" _Finally_ ," Malia muttered under her breath, earning herself a glare from her friend. "What? The two of you have been stumbling around each other for a week. It's been _awful_."

Clenching her jaw, Lydia drew herself up to her full height, and Scott was sure she was about to blow up. Fortunately, before she could, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Stiles jogging toward them, waving wildly. "Speak of the devil," he said, turning back to find Lydia staring at their approaching friend with an anxious look on her face.

When Stiles reached them, he immediately doubled over, hands on his legs, gasping for breath. "Sorry," he managed to get out, looking up and grimacing. "I had to park way down the street, and then I got impatient so I ran, and..." He trailed off then, as he locked eyes with Lydia, nervously clearing his throat.

"Okay," Scott said a moment later, when the two continued to stare at each other, the tension building in the air between then. "You two should... we're gonna go. Malia?" She nodded and started off down the sidewalk as he backed away slowly, shooting Stiles a covert thumbs-up for encouragement. Then he turned and fell into step beside her as they walked off into the night, heading back down the street.

"All right," she said after they'd walked for a minute, finding themselves in a small, dark alcove outside a hardware store, "what did you do?"

He shot her a bemused look. "What do you mean?"

Turning to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion, she poked him in the arm, hard. "You did something. There's no way he worked up the courage to talk to her on his own. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! And ow." He rubbed his arm as she continued to stare at him through narrowed eyes, before sighing and shrugging sheepishly. "All right. I just pointed out a few things to him, that's all. And I _might_ have suggested he go talk to her. But you really can't blame me. You've seen how he's been lately. Much more of that and _I_ probably would have strangled him, just to get a little peace. I mean, he got me out of bed to sneak into the freaking _morgue_. And we didn't even find anything! That's just... not cool."

Shaking her head, Malia met his gaze and huffed out a little amused breath. "Look at you, handing out good advice. I'm a little impressed."

"I'm not just a pretty face."

"Apparently." Then she paused and pursed her lips. "You think they'll get together?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I know Stiles likes her, obviously, and I'm pretty sure she likes him back."

"She does."

"Yeah, see, there you go." Suddenly, it dawned on him who he was talking to, and it was his turn to pause then, hesitating as he looked at her. "Is that—are you okay with that? With them getting together?"

He remember vividly when he'd realised Allison and Isaac were getting closer, the conflicting feelings he'd endured as he watched them dance around each other. It wasn't an easy thing to reconcile, loving both people and wanting what was best for them both, but still having to contend with that little bit of jealousy, of resentment every time they were together around him. He couldn't imagine it would be any easier for her.

But to his surprise, Malia just shrugged. "It's fine. I wasn't lying about being okay with how things turned out with Stiles, Scott. It was great, but now it's over, and he's free to be with whoever he wants. Just like I am," she said, a grin briefly flashing across her face as she locked eyes with him and raised an eyebrow. "I want them both to be happy, y'know? And if that means they get together, then it is what it is, and I'll support them and be happy for them." She stopped then, suddenly looking a little self-conscious as he studied her searchingly, a wide smile on his face. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, reaching up and brushing a lock of hair back from her face. "You're just a really good friend. It's nice."

Taking advantage of the shadowy area they were standing in, he reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling her in for a kiss. She came willingly, pressing up against him, lips moving over his for a moment, before she pulled back, murmuring, "Careful. Don't start something you can't finish right now."

"Don't worry. We'll finish it later."

" _Promises_ ," she said in a sing-song voice. Before he could respond, she abruptly turned and gestured behind them. "But enough of that now. Let's go get some food. I'm starving."

For the next hour, they wandered up and down the street, getting food, listening to the bands perform, and just having a good time. Scott tried to ignore just how much like a date the whole thing felt like, as they chatted and laughed and people-watched. It got a little more difficult each time their hands would brush and he had to resist the urge to reach out and grab hers, but he managed. More than once, he caught her fighting a grin out of the corner of his eye, and couldn't help but wonder if she was doing it on purpose, if she'd guessed just what direction his thoughts had gone in.

It made him ponder if he _wanted_ it to be a date. A week spent hanging out with her had opened his eyes a little, increasing the appreciation he had for her, for who she was, and what she meant to him. They hadn't discussed their relationship much since Christmas, both just going with the flow and enjoying themselves, but he'd be lying if he didn't acknowledge just how quickly her presence was becoming an indispensable part of his life. And that meant something. Something big. Something he'd been making every effort to avoid thinking too much about, wanting to avoid getting inside his own head and screwing up whatever it was they had.

When the time came, they made their way toward the far end of the street with everybody else, where the Mayor was already talking, thanking the crowd for showing up and making the event such a success. Scott spotted his mom standing next to a parked news van and they angled toward her.

"Hey!" Melissa said as they approached, smiling at them. "Less than five minutes left in the year. You guys excited yet?"

"Super excited," Malia replied dryly, leaning against the van.

"What she said," he added as he settled in next to her, standing between the two of them.

"Come on, guys! Get in the spirit! It's about to be a new year, a big renewal! That's cool, right?" When they both just looked at her, expressions blank, Melissa shook her head and sighed dramatically. "All right, be like that. But don't expect me to do the same. I plan to cheer my ass off when that counter hits zero."

As the clock neared midnight, the entire watching crowd beginning to stir, eagerly anticipating the final countdown, and Scott felt Malia's hand find his, fingers intertwining, hidden between them. Glancing over at her, he found her looking back, and they shared a soft smile. He didn't know what the new year might bring for them, but in that moment, standing side by side, her hand warm in his, he knew there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

When the timer got down to ten, they both stayed quiet as everybody around them began to loudly count down, content just to soak in the atmosphere. A massive cheer went up from the crowd when the clock struck midnight, people shouting and jumping excitedly. Next to him, he heard his mom screaming along with them, losing herself in the moment just like she did every year.

Abruptly, Malia squeezed his hand hard, drawing his attention back to her. When their eyes met, she jerked her head toward the van and arched an eyebrow. When he frowned, brow furrowing in confusion, she rolled her eyes and gave his arm a hard tug, pulling him toward her. Confused, he didn't resist as she led him around the van, out of sight of the crowd.

"What are you—"

She cut off his question, pushing him back against the side of the van and kissing him hard. Her hands pressed flat to his chest, holding him in place as her lips slanted hungrily over his. Grasping her waist, he spun suddenly, reversing their positions, and giving back just as good as he got.

When they broke apart a moment later, breathing heavily, faces flushed, she locked eyes with him and arched an eyebrow. "Couldn't miss out on a New Year's kiss, right?" she asked breathlessly, as she dropped her hands and hooked her fingers under his belt.

Grinning, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. "Definitely not. That was... wow."

"Happy New Year, Scott."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _I don't how I feel about this chapter. At first, I wasn't going to do Christmas, but then I thought it would be weird if I didn't. Then it was going to be two chapters, one for each holiday. But neither of them felt particularly strong on their own, so I combined them into one, and now it feels kind of disjointed and a little too long. Part of that is the morgue visit, but I wanted to both hint at some supernatural stuff maybe happening soon, and get the Lydia/Stiles thing moving, and that's what I came up with. Plus, I just like writing for Stiles. I don't know, I think it turned out decent. As always, let me know what you think._


	4. 04

**04**

Scott was just putting his toothbrush away when the bathroom door opened behind him. "Morning," he heard, a second before arms wrapped around his waist, a warm body pressing up against his back as a chin fell onto his shoulder.

Grinning, he met Malia's gaze in the mirror, taking in her bright eyes, her sleep-tousled hair, the contented smile on her face. He'd learned during their time together just how tactile a person she was, taking every opportunity to touch him whenever they were alone. Whether that was holding his hand, sleeping pressed against or draped over him, or wrapping herself around him like she was doing now, touch played a big role in how she expressed affection. And he was learning just how much he enjoyed that. Neither Allison nor Kira had been nearly as physical, and he found he really liked it, how she was never afraid to reach for him, to initiate contact.

Turning in the circle of her arms, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Morning," he said softly, smiling as he looked into her eyes. "You didn't have to get up. I was just gonna go get some breakfast."

"I know." She mirrored his smile, her fingers absently fiddling with the waistband of his sweatpants. "But I need to get into the habit of getting up early again for school anyway. And I need a shower." Leaning in, she kissed him again, then pulled back, eyebrow arched suggestively. "Wanna join me?"

"Tempting. _Really_ tempting..." He trailed off, then shook his head and shot her a sheepish grin. "But I probably shouldn't. I'm supposed to pick my mom up from work in an hour, and I have a feeling we might lose track of time if I do that."

"Suit yourself."

As she pulled away, she very deliberately trailed her fingers along the exposed skin above his waistband, a teasing grin on her face. When she reached the front, she hooked her fingers under and raised an eyebrow in challenge, then abruptly turned and headed for the shower. Closing his eyes, Scott looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to follow her. It hadn't taken her long to work out exactly how to press his buttons, and he knew all it would take was one look, one gesture and he'd be in that shower with her in a flash. It was only once he heard the curtain move and the water turn on that he finally let himself relax, leaning back against the sink and crossing his arms.

For a moment, he just watched her silhouette through the curtain, a little smile on his face as memories of the past week and a half danced through his mind. She'd spent a lot of time at his place, just hanging out during the day, and inevitably finding her way into his bed at night. And that was fun, but as much as he enjoyed the sex, he was coming to realise what he really liked was just being with her, doing absolutely nothing, watching a movie, or just talking. He'd counted her amongst his best friends for awhile now, but he'd never been as close to her as he was to Stiles or Lydia. Now, getting the chance to be around her so much, the appreciation was really setting in. For her. For who she was, funny and observant and unflinchingly honest. And how easy it was to be with her, how when she was around, everything seemed just a little brighter, just a little simpler.

"So, I've been thinking," she suddenly said, raising her voice slightly over the falling water. "This is going pretty well, what we're doing. I mean, there's no reason to think we're gonna stop or anything anytime soon, right?"

"I hope not," he replied, grimacing at the sudden jolt of dismay he felt at the thought of them ending things. "Why?"

"Well, I've been spending most nights here, and I don't plan to give that up, but it'd be a real pain to have to go home to get ready for school every morning, y'know? So, I think I'm gonna leave some clothes and stuff here, just to make things easier. It doesn't make sense to get up and go all the way home when we're going to the same place later anyway, right? And as long as your mom doesn't go through your stuff while you're gone, I think we'll be all right." She paused then, going still. "Scott? You gonna say something, or just let me keep babbling here?"

Frozen since she'd first floated her idea, Scott swallowed heavily, shifting nervously, and said, "Yeah, no, that's..." He stopped to clear his throat. "That's a good idea. I, uh, yeah, that's fine. Makes a lot of sense."

"Hey." Opening the curtain slightly, she stuck her head through and looked at him, brow furrowed slightly with concern. "If that's... if it's too much, I don't have to. I just—"

"No, no," he quickly interjected, moving forward, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Just caught me off-guard a bit. But no, you're right, it makes sense. I am one hundred percent okay with it." Reaching out, he tucked her wet hair behind her ears, then gently grasped her face with both hands, and looked into her eyes. "Bring whatever you want. I'll make room."

"Yeah?" There was just the slightest hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"Yeah." Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers, as the steam from the shower filled the air around them. When he pulled back a second later, dropping his hands, he arched an eyebrow in question. "Does that mean I can leave some clothes at your place then?"

"If you want. But I'll probably end up wearing them." Then she grinned and opened the curtain farther, giving him a clear look at her naked body. "Now, are you coming in or not?"

He snorted and shook his head in amusement as she disappeared back behind the curtain. Then he shrugged and reached for his pants, quickly sliding them down and off. "Screw it. We can be quick, right?" She just laughed.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

His mom was just walking out the door when Scott pulled up outside the hospital. On the few occasions he picked her up, he generally liked to get there early, but considering how long it had taken for Malia to actually let him out of the shower, he wasn't going to be too hard on himself. He'd made great time, really, and it wasn't like she'd had to wait outside for him.

When she slid into the car next to him, Melissa shot him a tired smile, then sank back in her seat, and let out a heavy sigh. "Thanks, Scott," she said, as she buckled her seat-belt.

"No problem. Long shift?"

"The longest. You know I love this town, right?" He nodded, eyes on the road as he pulled back out into traffic. "Well, it's a good thing I do, because we must have some of the dumbest, most injury-prone people in the country living here. We had a guy come in today, a grown man, who tried to open a package with a steak knife and somehow managed to nearly cut his own ear off." She let out another sigh and let her head hang down, rubbing at her temples slowly. "I just want one day where everybody is smart and nobody injures themselves in some stupid way. Is that too much to ask?"

Despite the plea, the obvious exhaustion and frustration in her voice, Scott couldn't help but chuckle. When she looked over and glared at him, it only made him laugh harder. He tried to cover his mouth with his hand, tried to muffle his amusement, but it just wouldn't stop. "Sorry," he managed to get out, "I just..." He paused to shake his head. "His ear, huh?"

"Yeah." Slowly, a smile started to form on her face, and a second later, she let out a little tired chuckle of her own. "I should write a book."

"You really should."

They lapsed into silence then, as she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. He was happy to stay quiet, knowing how tired she got after work. But after a moment, she turned to look at him and said, "So, any big plans for today? Holiday's coming to an end soon."

He shrugged. "Not really. Gonna spend the afternoon with Stiles, I think. It's his first date with Lydia tonight, and he's kinda been freaking out. She asked me to make sure he doesn't completely lose it." Which he wasn't looking forward to, because he knew his friend, knew his tendency to self-sabotage. But he was going to do what he had to, for Stiles and Lydia, because they both deserved it. And he had the memories of the morning's fun, and Malia's suggestion, to keep his own spirits up. Even now, just thinking about it, he could feel the smile forming on his face.

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah, it'll be great," he said, voice dry. "I should be home for dinner though."

"I won't be." When he turned and shot her a questioning look, she just shrugged. "Made dinner plans with a friend. So you're on your own, kiddo. Or, I guess you could spend the night with your girlfriend."

" _What_?" Scott's eyes were wide as he looked at his mom, who was looking back with a little knowing smirk on her face. Reflexively, he gripped the steering wheel hard, knowing full well he had a deer in the headlights expression on his face, and completely helpless to do anything about it. "I don't—"

"Scott, come on. I'm your mom. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" She raised her eyebrows and gestured toward him with one hand. "You've been smiling and laughing more in the last couple of weeks than you have in months. I know the signs. And don't think I missed how you didn't even come home two nights last week. You've been seeing somebody new, haven't you?"

For the briefest second, he considered denying it. But just as quickly, he realised he didn't really need to. If she'd known the girl in question was Malia, she would have said so. They'd agreed to keep things to themselves, but that didn't mean he had to pretend he was alone. And clearly he wasn't nearly as good at hiding things as he may have hoped. So he could straight up lie to her, pretend like he didn't know what she was talking about, or he could just admit it, tell her enough to satisfy her curiosity, and not worry about it. It was an easy choice.

"Yeah, I guess I have." He tried to shrug nonchalantly, unsure of how it came off with the way his thumb was drumming nervously against the wheel. "I mean, I've sorta been hanging out with somebody. We're just, y'know, keeping it pretty casual or whatever. It's not really serious. We're just... having a good time."

For a moment, his mom was silent, as Scott studiously avoid looking in her direction. Even as he'd said the words, he couldn't help but wonder if they were even true. They way he'd been feeling around Malia lately had him questioning if casual was really the word for what they were doing. It didn't really feel that way when they were together, when she smiled, or reached for his hand, and his heart would jump a little in his chest. But now was not the time to dig too deep into that.

"Well, I'm happy for you, honey." He could hear the sincerity in her words as he felt her hand fall on his arm and give a little squeeze. "It's nice to see you smiling again." There was a second of silence then, before she cleared her throat. "Hey, you could bring her around the house sometime, you know, if you want. I promise not to bite."

That drew a little grin from Scott, who finally looked over at her as they turned the corner onto their street. "Thanks, mom. I'll keep that in mind."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"You think your mom is gonna go through your drawers?"

Scott, lying on his side on his bed, snorted and shook his head as he watched Malia crouched in front of his dresser, filling one of the drawers with some of her clothes. "That's not really her style. She's generally pretty up-front if she thinks I'm hiding stuff from her. Not a lot of snooping around. And," he continued, sitting up, "even if she does find your stuff in there, she might just think I've taken up cross-dressing."

Pausing, she shot him a smirk over her shoulder. "Hey, if you ever want to experiment..." Trailing off, she held up the panties she'd just pulled out and waved them around for him to see.

"No thanks," he deadpanned. "Not really my colour."

As she laughed softly and resumed her task, Scott slid to the end of his bed and watched her work, a happy smile forming on his face. Her suggestion had caught him off-guard, without a doubt, and he'd hesitated, not because of any aversion to the idea, but because it just struck him as a decidedly intimate thing to do with someone, to share space like that, somehow new and different despite the amount of time they'd already spent together. He'd been with Kira for months and they'd never reached that stage. But Malia wasn't Kira, and what they were doing wasn't the same. He still wasn't even sure exactly what they were doing, but watching her do this, it felt right.

In the hours since their conversation, he hadn't been able to keep the grin off his face. The afternoon spent with Stiles, psyching him up for his first date with Lydia tonight, had been a little taxing as his best friend kept asking why he was in such a good mood, and he had to play it off like he didn't know what he was talking about. But he'd made it through, and now here they were, her shampoo with his in the shower, her toothbrush sitting with his on his sink, and her clothes piled neatly in his dresser.

"There," she said, rising to her feet and tossing the now-empty duffel bag she'd brought into his chair. "All done."

Turning toward him, she arched an eyebrow in question at the smile on his face, then snorted and rolled her eyes when he just stared back, expression unchanging. Moving forward, she dropped unceremoniously into his lap, drawing a grunt from him as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, his instinctively going around her waist. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back hard, hungrily, finally able to physically convey the emotions he'd been feeling all day.

"Guess I don't need to ask if you're really okay with this, do I?" she murmured as she pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes.

"Subtlety never was my strong suit."

"Mine either."

As she spoke, she twisted in his lap, pushing against his chest until he was lying flat on his back and she was straddling his waist. She wasted no time in kissing him again, and he was more than happy to let her do what she wanted, to lose himself in the feel of her lips moving against his, her weight pressing down on him, her hands on his shoulders, his face, tangling in his hair. When the need to breathe forced a break, she rested her forehead on his shoulder as they waited for their racing pulses to return to normal.

"Hey, what _would_ you have done if I'd said I wasn't sure about this?" he asked softly after a minute, curious.

Lifting her head, she met his gaze and shrugged. "I would have been okay with it. I mean, this just makes things easier. But if you weren't comfortable with it, I wouldn't have pressed. It would have been a _real_ pain in the ass," she allowed, drawing a crooked grin from him, "but it wouldn't have been too bad. You're worth the effort, I think."

"You think?" He raised an eyebrow as she grinned down at him, entirely unrepentant. "Hmm. After that, maybe I'll change my mind."

"Too late, Scott. Everything's already put away. You're stuck with me now."

He opened his mouth to tell her how much he liked the sound of that, but she cut him off with another kiss, and he swallowed the words in favour of more pleasant things. He lost track of time then, a pleasant fog enveloping his mind, brought on by the taste of her, the feel, her presence. The need to be as close to her as he could get was the only thing on his mind, everything else pushed to the fringes.

When they eventually broke apart, breathing heavily through wide grins, Malia rolled off him, onto her back, and let out a little laugh, draping her arm over her eyes. "As much as I'd like to do that all night, we probably should find something else to do. After tomorrow, it's gonna be all early mornings and textbooks." Turning on her side, she propped her head up in her hand, resting the other on his chest. "That's about as far from fun as I can imagine."

Huffing out an amused breath at the distaste in her voice, he turned to face her, mirroring her position. "Hey, it doesn't have to be so bad. I mean, if you wanted, I could study with you. I'm no genius, but I do all right. I think I could help a little."

"Oh yeah?" She shot him a knowing smirk as her fingers slowly trailed down his side, toward his hip. "And the fact that would give me a legitimate excuse for being over here all the time has _nothing_ to do with it, right?"

"The thought had crossed my mind. Is that a problem?"

"Nope."

Scott grinned crookedly at her decisive answer, then let out a chuckle as her hand closed around his wrist, insistently tugging him toward her. He put up no resistance, sliding toward her, over her, and sinking blissfully into another heavy, lingering kiss.

"If that's one of the perks I can expect studying with you, I'm in," she said, smiling up at him when he pulled back. Then she pursed her lips and tilted her head. "Not sure how much we'll actually get done..."

Chuckling, he slowly pushed himself up and stood, then extended a hand to pull her up alongside him. "So," he said softly, "did you have anything in mind? For what we could do tonight, I mean."

"How about a movie?" she suggested.

He shrugged. "Yeah, all right. I'll go find something good—"

"No," she said, cutting him off and squeezing his hand to keep him from pulling away. "I mean, we should go see a movie. There's a couple good ones playing, and I've been meaning to go." Pausing, she shrugged, a little smile quirking up her lips. "Why should Lydia and Stiles be the only ones to get a night out?"

Scott hesitated for a second, only because he hadn't been expecting it. He wasn't entirely sure why that was, since she'd already shown she wasn't afraid to be seen close to him in public, despite their agreement to keep what they were doing between them. And going to the movies was a perfectly normal thing for friends to do. He went with Stiles all the time, and had gone with Lydia once or twice as well. Still, he couldn't control how his heart started beating just a little faster at the thought of being with her, _really_ with her, out where anybody could see them. It was something he hadn't really been able to get off his mind since New Year's Eve, and their not-date that felt like maybe it actually was one. To have her bring it up now, so casually, left him sort of reeling, caught off-guard.

Quickly pushing that aside, before she could pick up on his reaction, and before he could start over-thinking what it all meant, he grinned and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good. Should we just..." He trailed off and gestured toward the door.

"Yeah. You can look up start-times on the way." As she spoke, she was already heading for the door, leading him by his hand. "I hope you like a _lot_ of butter on your popcorn."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

Scott's phone went off when they were about halfway to the theatre, and he was surprised when he checked the display and saw who was calling. "It's the Sheriff." He frowned as Malia looked over and raised an eyebrow. Answering the call, he put it on speaker and said, "Hello?"

"Hey, Scott." There was a note of weariness in Stilinski's voice. "Sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you might be able to help me out with a... a little situation I've got here."

"Uh, yeah, okay." He knew the Sheriff wouldn't be calling unless it was important. Supernatural or not, the man didn't like to drag teenagers into situations he thought he could handle. "What do you need?"

"I'd just like your opinion on something that may or may not be your kind of thing." He paused then, and muffled voices came over the line before he came back. "Sorry. Would you mind meeting me out on Miller Road, about a mile past the bridge? You won't be able to miss the spot."

"Sure, yeah," he replied, after looking at Malia and getting a shrug in return. "We'll be there soon."

As soon as the call ended, she let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. "We should have known. If Stiles wasn't gonna be around to bug us, his dad would fill in." Looking at him, she frowned. "This was supposed to be a fun night."

Scott smiled apologetically as he pocketed his phone. "I know, it sucks. But he wouldn't call if it wasn't important."

"Doesn't make me like it any better."

Fifteen minutes later, Scott caught sight of flashing lights in the distance as they made their way along Miller Road. As Malia slowly drove closer, he spotted three police cars parked on the side of the road, along with an ambulance. By the time they reached the spot and pulled to a stop next to one of the cars, the ambulance was leaving, lights on, but siren mercifully not. When they climbed out of the car, a nearby deputy looked over at them, but before she could say anything, Parrish appeared out of the tree-line next to the road and beckoned them forward.

"Hey, guys. Sheriff's waiting," he said, as they fell into step beside him and headed up into the trees.

The Hellhound led them a couple hundred yards through trees and thick brush, the light of the half-full moon allowing them to see where they were going without using their shifter eyes. The usual sounds of night, insects and small animals, were absent, whether because of the presence of all the police or because of whatever had drawn them there, he wasn't sure. Since Parrish didn't appear to be in a chatty mood, he kept his questions for Stilinski. The woods around them abruptly thinned, depositing the trio onto a rough dirt path running perpendicular to the route they'd taken. When Parrish gestured to their right, Scott immediately spotted the Sheriff standing a dozen yards away, inspecting a small rocky outcrop running alongside the path.

"Scott," he said, looking up as they approached. "Malia. Thanks for coming. Sorry to bother you on a Saturday night."

"No problem, Sheriff. What happened?"

Turning, the man gestured to a spot on the path, a few feet from where he was standing. "A hiker was attacked right there earlier tonight. He was coming through here with his dog, and something came down off the rocks there and hit him. Banged his head off the ground pretty good, gave him a bad concussion." He paused and pointed a little farther down. "He was pretty out of it, but he says the dog went after whatever hit him and chased it down there. Now, he swears it was a man, but he also swears he heard that man growling like an animal."

"A werewolf."

The Sheriff shot him a tight-lipped smile at that. "That was my thought. But something doesn't add up. See, he says the dog went after this man, and we found a little blood in its mouth, so that I do buy. But the dog doesn't have a _scratch_ on it. And neither does the guy. That doesn't seem right to me. Why attack in the first place just to run off?"

"The dog scared him off," Malia said, crossing her arms as he turned toward her.

"It's not a big dog."

Huffing out an annoyed breath, she shrugged. "Maybe he's just a coward. I don't know. Why are we here? You want us to track him?"

"No. See, I'm not convinced we're dealing with the supernatural here at all. It could have just been some homeless guy or something, staying up here. Got startled, lashed out, then ran off after the dog got a piece of him. That fits better, in my mind. But..." He trailed off and pursed his lips, then pointed to his right, past the rocks. "About a hundred feet that way is where we found that body a couple days ago. I'm sure Stiles told you about that."

"He did," Scott confirmed, stepping around the Sheriff to look off into the dark. Glowing his eyes, he squinted, but only saw more trees. Refocusing on the man, he shrugged. "We checked it out, but didn't find anything. Are you thinking it wasn't a mountain lion?"

Stilinski tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "I'm thinking it's too much of a coincidence to have two potentially supernatural attacks happen so close together, physically _and_ in time. I don't understand why he ran off rather than finishing off the hiker like he did to the other guy, but I don't think we can take the chance that the two events aren't connected."

Sighing, Scott nodded as he stepped back to Malia's side. "You're right. What do you need?"

"Well, I was kinda hoping you might be able to tell me for sure if it _was_ a werewolf, or maybe some other supernatural creature or not." Reaching into his jacket, the Sheriff pulled out a sealed plastic evidence bag. "We collected some blood from the dog's mouth before Animal Control took her. Can you guys... smell other things like you? I mean, can you tell each other from regular humans by scent?" He asked the question hesitantly, like he didn't want to offend them.

Frowning, Scott looked at Malia, who shrugged and shook her head slightly. Turning back toward Stilinski, he pursed his lips and rocked his head back and forth noncommittally. "Not really. I mean, sometimes we can, but it's more of a... a vibe, I guess, than a scent. It's hard to explain. But it's sort of an in-person thing. And even that's not reliable all the time." At the Sheriff's disappointed expression, he quickly tacked on, "But we can give it a shot."

"I appreciate it, Scott. Here."

Opening the bag, he held it out, and Scott leaned in to take a big sniff. Despite the unpleasant smell, he forced himself to take it in, searching for something, anything that might tell him it came from something other than a human. But after a moment, he straightened up and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Sheriff. I—I just can't tell."

Turning hopeful eyes on Malia, the man held the bag out to her. Grimacing, she pushed it away and shook her head. "I already got it. I can't tell either. It just smells like blood to me."

Letting out a discouraged sigh, the Sheriff slowly closed the bag and slid it back inside his jacket. "All right. Thanks anyway, guys. You two can go ahead and—"

A slight breeze suddenly kicked up as Stilinski was speaking, blowing through from the north, and both Scott and Malia turned in that direction at the same time. While the blood hadn't panned out, both of them had picked up the various scents of the people who'd been in the area recently, the strongest clearly coming from all the police and the victim. It was impossible to identify them, beyond the two they knew belonged to the Sheriff and Parrish. So when one of the weaker ones, one barely noticeable under the blend of others, abruptly intensified, carried to them on the new breeze, they both reacted.

"Have any of your people been up there tonight?" Scott asked, pointing up past the outcrop and into the woods beyond.

"No."

"Then I think your mystery attacker was."

Eyes glowing, he headed off the path and into the trees, Malia at his side, while the Sheriff told Parrish to keep the other deputies away, then plunged after them. He let her take the lead, knowing from experience she was better at this than he was, and kept his eyes focused on their surroundings, just in case the attacker had doubled back and was watching them. He could hear Stilinski's loud footsteps behind him and tried to block the noise out, focusing his hearing on human heartbeats, something that couldn't be hidden.

"He's definitely been through here," she muttered, pausing to sniff around a tree. "More than once. The scent's everywhere, some old, some newer." Picking up her pace, she broke into a jog, quickly pulling away.

Trusting her to take care of herself, Scott waited for the Sheriff to catch up before he followed her path, head still on a swivel. They caught up to her inside a small clearing, bordered on one side by another rocky outcrop, this one much larger than the other. When they entered the clearing, she was approaching the rock slowly, nose in the air. As they approached her, she suddenly knelt next to a thick mass of branches at the base of the outcrop.

"I think there's something here," she said, as she reached out and grasped a branch.

"What do you mean?" he asked, kneeling next to her.

"The scent is strongest here. Can you smell it?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe there's something behind them," the Sheriff suggested as they studied the leafy brush.

Frowning, Scott found the largest branch he could see and gave it an experimental tug. To his surprise, it came away easily in his hands, bringing a lot of leaves and smaller branches with it. As he tossed it aside, Malia grabbed another and got the same result. The resulting hole revealed a previously hidden crack in the rock-face, a couple feet wide and just tall enough for a grown person to get through if they crouched.

"A cave?"

"Looks like it." On his hands and knees, he began to crawl forward, grimacing as the twigs on the ground pressed into his palms painfully. Before he could get close to the crack, he felt a hand close on his ankle, and turned to see Malia looking at him, concerned. "Don't worry," he said, smiling reassuringly. "No heartbeats. It's empty." She reluctantly let go of him, and he resumed crawling forward, shoulders brushing both sides as he slipped through the opening. Inside, he found a surprisingly roomy space, roughly fifteen feet by fifteen feet, and tall enough for him to stand, which he did.

"Scott?" The Sheriff's voice was muffled by the rock walls between them. "Anything?"

"Yeah, he was definitely in here," he called back, taking a step forward. "There are some food wrappers. Burgers, mostly." He kicked the balled up paper absently as he looked around. "Some blankets. Empty water bottles. And..." Kneeling, he reached out a grabbed a length of rope of the floor of the cavern. "And some rope. That's it."

As he went to rise, he suddenly froze and slowly swept his gaze across the cave. Blankets. Two sets of blankets, piled on opposite sides of the space. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, he went over to one side and carefully smelled the blankets there. They scent was familiar, the same one they'd followed there. Then he crossed over to the other side and repeated the process. It smelled the same, but something wasn't right. It took several more sniffs before he finally realised what was bugging him. The scent was almost the same, but it wasn't exactly right. Whoever had slept on this pile smelled almost identical to whoever had attacked the hiker, but not quite.

"Two people," were the first words he said when he crawled out of the cave and back into the fresh night air. "Two people were staying in there. Their scents are..." He blew out a breath and shook his head, "about as close to identical as you can get."

"What does that mean?" Stilinski asked, as Malia pulled Scott back to his feet.

"Family," he replied, brushing the dirt and leaves off his jeans. "Siblings, probably. Derek and Cora smell a lot alike. And Ethan and Aiden were like that too. It took me forever to pick up on the difference in their scents."

"So there were _two_ werewolves here?" Stilinski looked around nervously, and Scott heard his heart rate increase slightly.

"Maybe. I still can't tell if they're wolves or not. They could just be homeless people, like you said. I just—I don't know." He shrugged helplessly and glanced at Malia, who looked about as sure as he felt. "Sorry, Sheriff. Maybe just warn everybody to stay off this path for now and call Argent. He might be able to find something we missed."

"That's not a bad idea." Turning, Stilinski took one last look at the cave and shook his head slowly. Then he looked back at them and gestured back in the direction they'd come from. "I think we're done here. You two are gonna have to lead the way back because I am completely lost."

Several minutes later, the trio stepped back onto the path just down from where they'd left it. Collecting Parrish, who the Sheriff filled in as they walked, they made their way back down through the trees to the road and their waiting cars. The two deputies there were already sitting in their respective vehicles, and they quickly took off at a signal from their boss.

"Thanks for the help, Scott, Malia," Stilinski said, nodding to each of them as they walked toward their own cars. "If you don't mind, maybe don't mention this to Stiles. I know he'll figure it out eventually, but this kind of thing will drive him completely bonkers. I'd like to put that off for as long as possible, if I can."

"Yeah, sure. I'm actually a little surprised he's not here already. Date or not, this is kinda right up his alley, y'know?"

Stilinski grinned sheepishly at that, and let out a little chuckle. "Yeah, about that. I _may_ have disabled his radio before I left for work this morning. Temporarily. I had a feeling he'd be looking for any reason to shoot himself in the foot, so to speak."

Scott huffed out an amused breath at that. "That's... a pretty good idea, actually."

"I have my moments. All right, you two kids get out of here. I'll talk to Argent, let you know what he says."

Malia wasted no time in getting into her car, and Scott followed suit, waving to the Sheriff and Parrish as they drove off. As she started the car, he pulled out his phone, checked the time, then looked at her, eyebrow raised in question. "You know, it's not really that late. You still want to see a movie?"

Pausing, she looked over at him, a little smile on her face. "Yeah, I do."

"Me too. Let's go."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"There's no way that would work in real life."

"Yeah, it would. I've _seen_ it."

"You've seen it?" The disbelief in Malia's voice was so thick, Scott almost felt like he could have touched it. "Bullshit. People can't do that, Scott, no matter how strong they are. I'm telling you it's not possible."

Twisting in his seat to fully face her, he shook his head and waved his finger at her. "And I'm telling you it _is_ possible. I saw Derek do it once, when we were fighting the Oni. I mean, it didn't really work, but he pulled it off."

For a second, she was silent, staring at him through narrowed eyes. "No, I don't believe you."

Clasping a hand over his heart, he affected a hurt look. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"Yes!"

Grinning, Scott let out a little laugh. The movie had been a great idea, more fun than he would have anticipated. The film itself hadn't been that good, just a big, dumb action movie with a lot of slow-motion explosions and ridiculous fight scenes, but that hadn't mattered. To his amusement, it turned out Malia really got into the movie she was watching, yelling at the characters when they were being stupid, encouraging them to duck and dodge and when to strike during fights. He'd spent most of the two hours watching her, a little relieved the theatre had been nearly empty, but mostly just having fun seeing her enjoy herself. And it hadn't ended there, the spirited discussion of the mechanics of what they'd watched keeping them going all the way to his house, where they were parked, sitting in the driveway.

"Looks like your mom is back," she said suddenly, nodding to the car next to them.

"Yeah, looks like."

Drumming his fingers on the dash, he looked at the house, feeling the reluctance to leave the car course through him. Once they went inside, it was back to being just friends again. It didn't matter that he knew she'd be with him in bed later on. Every day, every hour spent with her, and it grew a little harder to convince himself that he didn't want more than that, to be with her openly.

"Guess it's back to being friends for now then."

Scott wasn't sure what exactly it was, if it was his own feelings, his own thoughts, or hearing some of the same reluctance in her voice that he was feeling, but before he could stop himself, he said, "It doesn't have to be."

She stilled, eyes locked on his. "What do you mean?"

Scratching his cheek, he shrugged, then nodded toward the house. "My mom figured out I've been... seeing someone. She doesn't know it's you, but she knows there's somebody. She knows me too well." He grinned sheepishly. "Apparently I've been happier lately and she noticed. And since she brought it up, I've just... I don't know. She's right. I am happy. And I'm wondering if we really need to hide the reason why from her. I know this is our business, and other people don't need to know about it, but I don't know. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she knew."

"You want to tell her?" Her expression was guarded, giving nothing away.

"I don't— No, I—" He sighed, then took a deep breath. "Listen, I really like you, Malia. I like what we're doing, I like spending time with you." He could feel his heart beating faster as he looked into her eyes, suddenly feeling very open, exposed. "These last few weeks have been great, wonderful, and if you're happy with how things have been going, then so am I. But sometimes... I don't know. I'd like to be with you somewhere other than a bedroom, or only when we're alone. Really with you. Tonight just really drove home how much fun I have with you. And sometimes, I'd like to be able to just touch you and not even think about anybody seeing." Eyes still locked on hers, he gestured toward the house. "We're about to walk into my house, and I'd really like it if I could just kiss my—you and not have to hide it, or have it be a big deal!"

For a moment, what felt like the longest moment of his life, Malia didn't say a word. She just looked at him, not blinking, barely breathing, as he listened to his own heartbeat hammering in his ears, wondering if she'd caught his slip, and praying he hadn't just completely screwed up.

"So we tell her."

His heart skipped a beat. "What?"

Slowly, a grin spread across her face, as her hand came up, reaching across the center console to cup the side of his face gently. "You're right. We're good together. And I'm not... I can't see the future, so I don't know exactly what that means for us. But I don't think we need to hide it from everybody. So we tell her about us. At least some of it anyway. Can probably leave out all the sex we've been having."

Scott couldn't contain his laughter at that, reaching up to cover her hand with his own as he mirrored her grin. "Good call."

"This'll probably make it a lot easier too, not having to sneak around. No more climbing in and out of your bedroom window."

"Yeah, the benefits are endless."

He felt gentle pressure on his head then, pulling him toward her, and he leaned across the space between them and kissed her. It wasn't a particularly passionate kiss, or a long one, but it felt different somehow from any they'd shared before. Whatever was between them had shifted tonight, and he wasn't sure he could put into words exactly how, but things were different now, if only a little.

"So," he said when he pulled back, eyes finding hers. "We're doing this."

"Yeah, we are."

Suddenly eager to get inside, he grinned and pulled away, his cheek still tingling where her hand had rested, as he opened his door and climbed out. Rounding the nose of the car, he waited for her to step up next to him, his hand finding hers, fingers intertwining. When she squeezed softly, he took a deep breath, and they started toward the door.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _This chapter nearly killed me. I wrote and rewrote a couple of the sections more times than I care to admit. Originally, the whole thing went very differently, but ultimately, I decided to focus on Scott and Malia's relationship as much as I could, because I think it's time for that shit to evolve a bit. If it wasn't clear from Chapter 01 exactly where they're headed, I think it should be after this, and I plan to have as much fun as possible with them between now and the end. The section in the middle with Sheriff Stilinski originally featured Stiles instead, but it didn't flow nearly as well as I'd hoped, so I went this direction instead. Moving forward, the goal is to have those scenes, the ones setting up and continuing the supe threat b-plot, be shorter and more like interludes from main story. But my goal for this chapter was 5k and I blew way past that, so take my goals with a grain of salt. Next chapter, back to school. Should be fun. As always, let me know what you think._


	5. 05

**05**

When they stepped through the door, Scott took the lead, Malia's hand warm in his as she trailed him into the kitchen. He could hear his mom moving around in there, could smell something cooking. Each step closer, he could feel his heart beating a little faster, a strange mixture of apprehension and anticipation building in the pit of his stomach.

"Hey, mom," he said, stopping just inside the doorway and greeting his mother, who was facing the oven, humming quietly to herself.

The way they were positioned, he was slightly ahead of Malia, obscuring where their hands were connected, so when Melissa turned around from the stove-top, all she saw was the two of them standing there. "Hey, guys. You're just in time for a late dinner." Behind her, a pot full of pasta was heating up on the element, another full of sauce bubbling slowly next to it.

For a second, he just looked at her, suddenly unsure of exactly how to say what they were there to say. "I thought you were gonna eat earlier," he blurted out, his brain seizing on the distraction, the opening she'd provided.

Letting out a weary sigh, Melissa crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "I was _supposed_ to. It didn't pan out. A little piece of advice for both of you: never try to date a doctor. It just... it just never works out." Shaking her head, she sighed again, then took a deep breath and forced a small smile onto her face. "My problem, guys, don't worry about it. What were you two up to tonight?"

"Saw a movie," Malia replied. "And helped Sheriff Stilinski. Or tried to, anyway."

"Oh?" Melissa's gaze moved to Scott, a little crease of worry forming on her brow. "Did something happen?"

"Hiker got attacked in the woods. He wasn't hurt too bad or anything, but the Sheriff thought it might be supernatural. We couldn't tell though, so he's gonna call Argent in to double-check."

"Oh, okay. Guess I should go ahead and cancel my late night walk in the woods, huh?" Shooting them a grin, she straightened up and clapped her hands together. "All right, if you two wanna grab some plates, this should be done soon." As she spoke, she turned away from them, back toward the oven.

Behind him, Scott heard Malia clear her throat pointedly as she bumped his back with her shoulder. "Oh, hey, mom," he said, spurred on by the prompting. "I, uh, I mean _we_ —I mean..." Trailing off, he sighed, jaw clenching as he reached up and rubbed at his forehead. There was some weird little worry squirming in the back of his mind, that his mom somehow wouldn't approve of them, of what they were doing. He knew it was stupid, knew she liked Malia, and would always approve of the things that made him happy. Still, he just couldn't shake that insidious sliver of doubt.

Melissa, who'd turned back toward them, pursed her lips, confusion settling on her face as she watched him try to speak. "Is something wrong, honey?"

"No, nothing's wrong," he quickly said, before hesitating again, mouth opening and closing soundlessly for a second. It was only when Malia squeezed his hand softly that he finally took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and went for it. "So, remember how you promised not to bite? Well, that's a good thing, 'cause she'd probably bite you back." As he spoke, he stepped to his left, revealing their joined hands to her view.

For a moment, silence reigned in the kitchen, Scott holding his breath as his mom's eyes flickered from him to Malia and back. "Oh, I see," she finally said, slowly, as the corners of her mouth started to twitch. "You two are together, huh?"

"We're something," Malia stated, and Scott could feel a little of the same tension he was feeling mirrored in her, in the way she was standing, in the grip she had on his hand. Strangely enough, that actually brought him a little comfort, to know he wasn't the only one experiencing it.

"Okay." Melissa slowly nodded as she brought her hand up to briefly cover her mouth, then tapped her chin with a finger. "If, uh..." She cleared her throat. "How long have you been..." She gestured vaguely between them, "doing this?"

Looking quickly at Malia, then back to his mom, Scott shrugged. "A couple of weeks. We're just... it's like I told you. It's just, y'know, we hang out, we have fun. We haven't told anybody because... well, because we didn't really think we needed to. We aren't... _dating_ , or anything like that. It just seemed easier for everybody if we kept it to ourselves, y'know?"

"But now you're telling me?"

"Yeah."

"Any particular reason?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He hesitated for a second, unsure of exactly how to phrase it, but before he could even try, Malia beat him to the punch. "Because things are..." She hesitated for the briefest second, "moving forward. We're figuring stuff out. And we didn't want to hide from everybody anymore. Right?" She glanced at him, and he smiled softly and dropped her hand, wrapping his arm around her shoulders instead. Sinking against him, her own arm went around his waist and together they looked to Melissa, who was watching them with a wide smile on her face.

"Well, I'm happy for you, both of you," she said, and Scott felt the tension he'd been feeling immediately start to bleed out. Then she tilted her head and pursed her lips. "Why were you so nervous? Am I that hard to talk to?"

"No, of course not. I just..." He trailed off, then shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I was just sort of worried you might not... I don't know." He smiled sheepishly, as Malia squeezed his waist encouragingly. "I was just being stupid, I guess."

"Oh, honey." Stepping forward, Melissa motioned for him to come to her, and when he did, she pulled him into a tight embrace. "You know I'll always support your choices, Scott," she murmured, before pulling back a bit and grinning up at him. "Unless you do something _really_ dumb."

Chuckling, Scott patted her shoulders. "Thanks, mom."

"No problem, kiddo." Looking around him at Malia, she arched an eyebrow and beckoned her forward. "Come on. Hugs all around."

"I'm not really much of a hugger," she protested, holding up her hands and taking a half step back.

"Liar," he teased, an unrepentant grin the only response to the glare she shot him.

Shaking her head, Melissa held up her hands in defeat. "Fair enough. I'm not gonna press." Then she rubbed her hands together and gestured toward the table. "Now that we've got everything out in the open, how about we eat? Because I really am starving. Just, please, no playing footsies under the table, all right? With the way my luck's been going, one of you will kick me, and it'll just get really weird and awkward, and I've had enough of that tonight already."

Letting out an amused breath, Scott grinned and stepped out of the way as she went back to the stove-top to finish up. Making his way over to Malia, he let his hands fall onto her waist, fully aware of the dopey grin stretching his face as he looked at her. He couldn't help it. He was happy. Whatever it was they were doing, whatever it was they'd found together, it was no longer just something they were doing alone, hidden from the world. Somebody knew, was aware there was something there, something between them.

For a second, she just looked at him, at the expression on his face, the corners of her mouth ticking up in a tiny, amused smile. Then she rolled her eyes, shook her head, and leaned in, giving him a quick kiss. "You look ridiculous," she murmured against his lips, but he could hear the same elation in her tone he was feeling.

"Hey!" At the sound of his mom's voice, they both turned to look at the nurse, who was watching them, arms crossed and a mock-annoyed look on her face. "I'm all for you two getting together. But please, while we're in the kitchen, how about we keep the displays of affection to a minimum, all right?"

Chuckling, Scott nodded. "Sure, mom, no problem." Then he caught Malia's eye and winked. "At least while you're around, anyway."

"Ah, come on, Scott!"

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"Morning, mom," Scott said as he made his way into the kitchen and took a seat at the table.

"Good morning, honey," she replied, looking up from well-worn paperback she'd been reading. There was a plate full of toast sitting on the table in front of her, and he snagged a piece when she slid it toward him, shooting her a grateful smile. For a second, she just watched him eat, before her eyes flickered up to the ceiling. "Did Malia stay over last night?"

He nodded as he finished off his toast. "Yeah," he said, after swallowing the last of it and wiping away the crumbs. "She spends most nights here, actually." He hadn't volunteered that information when they'd first revealed their situation to her the other night, and she hadn't asked, but he figured he might as well be up-front. There wasn't any point in trying to hide it now.

"Oh. All right then."

There was more than a hint of surprise in her tone, and he shot her a bemused look as he reached for another piece of toast. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing!" she quickly said. "I just... I guess I didn't realise you two were spending that much time together."

He shrugged as he rose to his feet and stepped over to the counter. "Yeah, well, nights are pretty much the only time we can be together without everybody noticing." As he spoke, he grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it from a carton of orange juice on the counter. "And since you've been working so many night shifts lately, the house was empty, so it was kinda perfect, y'know? We spent a few nights at her house too, but her dad was in and out constantly, which kind of made it hard to—" His voice died then, as he abruptly realised what he'd been about to say. Avoiding his mom's eyes, he took a big gulp of his drink, trying to cover his embarrassment, and nearly choked on it.

"Smooth," Melissa said, amusement colouring her tone as he sputtered and gasped, sending droplets of juice everywhere.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he cleared his throat, then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to for a second there." She just waved away his concern as he set his now-empty glass down and reclaimed his seat at the table. "But yeah, we've been spending most nights together. And days. So..."

"So I should expect to see her around here _a lot_ is what you're not so subtly trying to say, right?" When he shrugged, that sheepish smile making another appearance, she smirked and shook her head. "It's okay, Scott, I get it. Believe it or not, I was your age once too. Just... you guys are being safe, right?"

Picking up on the shift in tone, the sudden lack of any teasing in his mom's voice, he nodded reassuringly. "Yeah, of course."

"Good, good. And now that we got that out of the way," she said, the hint of relief in her voice bringing a smirk to his face, "are you ready for school? Got all your books and stuff?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Everything's ready."

Melissa's eyes moved from the clock on the stove to the ceiling, then back to him. "Shouldn't you guys be leaving soon? Not to rush you out or anything, but doesn't Malia need to go home and grab her things? Cutting it kinda close, aren't you?"

Scott, who'd just grabbed another piece of toast and taken a bite, waved off her concern as he chewed. "No, she's fine," he told her. "She brought her books over with her yesterday. And she's been keeping some clothes and stuff here." He tacked on that last bit almost absently as he finished off the last of his toast, and completely missed the way his mom's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, she has, has she?" The forced casual tone of her voice drew his eyes to her, and he nodded, frowning as she looked at him, expression considering. "I thought you guys weren't that serious."

"We're not!" he blurted out, whole body tensing reflexively. "It's like I told you. We're just—"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, both hands coming up in a placating gesture. "You're just having a good time, I got it. But I was watching the two of you yesterday, Scott, the way you are around each other, and I'm wondering..." Pausing, she smirked knowingly, staring directly at him. "Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or yourself?"

For a second, he hesitated, looking her in the eye, debating whether or not denying it was worth anything. When her expression never wavered, the look on her face a clear challenge, his decision was made for him. If he couldn't open up to his mom, who could he open up to? Letting out a heavy sigh, he shook his head. "Honestly? I don't know anymore. We keep saying it, and it doesn't really feel _wrong_ , y'know? But then she does or says something, or we do something together, and suddenly it doesn't feel so casual." He shrugged helplessly, a wry grin twisting his lips. "I don't know what we're doing, where we're going, or what she wants. The only thing I know for sure is when I'm with her, I'm happy, and I'm pretty sure she is too. And I think that's what matters..."

As he trailed off, he slumped down in his seat, not quite sure how he felt finally putting his internal debate into words. There definitely was something freeing about it, something satisfying about finally admitting, out loud, to somebody just what was going through his mind. Unfortunately, a little voice in the back of his head wouldn't stop telling him there was really only one person he should be having this conversation with, and she was currently upstairs in the shower.

"What about you?" His mom's quiet question drew his eyes back to her face, finding her watching him, lips twisted in a frown. "What do _you_ want, Scott?"

"I think..." He paused and swallowed heavily, reluctant to finally vocalize the desire he'd been stubbornly tap-dancing around in his own brain all week. "I think I might want more," he finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Then, louder, as he met her eyes, jaw clenched tight, determined. "But I'm not gonna press. I _am_ happy. Malia's happy. I don't want to screw that up, mom."

Silence lingered for a moment as Melissa looked at him, fingers drumming on the table, face twitching slightly, like she was fighting the urge to say something. After a moment, she blew out a little breath and leaned forward, looking him in the eye. "Listen, honey, I know I'm not exactly an expert on good relationships here. God knows I've made more than my fair share of mistakes in _that_ field over the years. But can I give you a little advice?"

"Please do."

"Okay, I think there's two things you should do, all right? First, you need to talk to Malia and get on the same page. Even if that page is one where both of you are still unsure about things. Just communicate, y'know, so you both know where you stand." She paused, holding his gaze, expression set, until he nodded. "And the second—and this is just my personal belief—I think you should tell your friends. The ones closest to you, at least."

"But—"

"Wait, wait, I know. It's between the two of you, not them. But Scott..." She paused and sighed, pursing her lips. "No matter what happens, whether you stay with her and let things progress, or decide you're better off as friends, the relationship between you _will_ change. It already has. You can't go back. And sooner or later, people are gonna pick up on that. I see how you look at her. How long until Stiles sees the same thing? Or Lydia? Or any of them." Reaching across the table, she covered his hand with hers. "No matter what happens, I think everybody will be better off if you just tell them—including you and Malia, all right?"

Meeting her gaze, he smiled and nodded. "Yeah, all right. Thanks, mom."

He wasn't sure if he was going to take her advice, at least the second part, but it warmed his heart to see how seriously she was taking this, how much she cared about him. It was too easy, sometimes, with all the stuff that tended to happen around him, to forget just how nice it was to have her there, always supportive, always ready and willing to give him advice, help him through the troubles that didn't have fangs or claws or a desire to see him dead.

"Sure, honey." Sitting back, Melissa cleared her throat, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Well, that got a little heavier than I intended. Hey," she said, dropping her voice to a whisper as she pointed up at the ceiling, "You think she heard any of that?"

Letting out a snort, he shook his head, eyes following his mother's finger to the spot right under his room. "No, the water interferes with our hearing a bit. If she concentrated, she probably could, but I, uh, I don't think we have to worry about that." At her questioning look, a wide grin spread across his face. "She sings in the shower. Pretty badly, actually. It's kind of adorable."

Melissa raised an eyebrow at that. "Is there anything about her you don't find adorable?"

Before he could respond, Scott heard the water turn off upstairs. "Sounds like she's done," he said, rising to his feet. "I'm gonna go get my stuff."

"Sure you are."

Chuckling, he rounded the table and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thanks for the advice, mom."

"Any time, honey."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

For a second after Malia killed the car's engine, neither of them moved, just sitting there, looking at the school in front of them, all their fellow students standing around, waiting for the first bell to ring. Next to them, Stiles' jeep was parked, empty, its owner already somewhere inside, probably with Lydia.

"Half a year," Scott muttered, mostly to himself. It was a little hard for him to process, after all he'd gone through in high school, all the things he'd seen, done, experienced inside and around that building, in half a year, he'd be done with it for good. Sometimes, more often than not in the beginning, it had felt like high school was going to just keep dragging on forever. But now, he could barely believe just how little time he actually had left there.

"What?"

Malia's confused exclamation jarred him from his thoughts, and he turned to her, shooting her a sheepish smile. "Just thinking about graduation. I know Stiles was kinda freaking out at the beginning of the year." At her incredulous look, he laughed and shrugged. "All right, maybe a little more than kinda. But to me, it didn't really seem real, y'know? Seemed so far away. And now..." He shook his head and sighed. "Suddenly, it doesn't."

Reaching over, she grabbed his hand as she caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. "Trust me, there's still a lot of time left. I'll worry about graduating once I'm actually sure I can pass all my classes."

Grinning in spite of his serious mood, he nodded and squeezed her hand softly. Overcome by a sudden urge, he leaned across the center console, cupping the side of her face with his free hand, and pulling her in for a soft, lingering kiss. He wasn't sure how many opportunities he was going to get to do that, to touch her, be with her during the day, and with what he'd told his mom echoing in his head, he was going to make the most of the few moments they had left alone together.

"We should head in," she murmured a minute later. "They'll be wondering where we are."

"Yeah." But all he did was kiss her again, and she didn't resist, her own hand coming up, tangling in his hair, pulling him tight to her.

Eventually, reluctantly, they broke apart, the pair sharing a soft smile before they grabbed their bags and got out of the car. Together, side by side, they headed for the school, cutting through the mass of students around them, and making their way inside. Just as he'd predicted, Scott immediately spotted Stiles and Lydia standing together at his locker, talking animatedly about something.

"No, see, it's perfect!" Stiles said as they approached, punctuating each word with a sharp movement of his hands. "I'll actually be able to help Scott out sometimes! I don't know if you've noticed, but my bat? Not really cutting it anymore!"

"What are we talking about?" Scott asked, raising an eyebrow in question as he stopped in front of his friends.

Shooting him a long-suffering look, Lydia rolled her eyes and hefted her books higher in her arms. "Stiles has decided he's going to get his dad to teach him how to shoot."

At the incredulous looks they all levelled at him, Stiles threw up his arms and shook his head. " _What_? I want to help! And I'm going into law enforcement anyways. Might as well learn now and actually be useful if anything tries to kill us in the next couple of months."

Frowning, Scott shook his head, trying not to laugh at the exasperated expression on Lydia's face. It was clear this was a conversation they'd been having for some time. "I don't know, man. You and guns... You remember what happened that time we found that pellet gun in the woods, right?"

"Okay, first of all, that wasn't that bad, all right? I missed your eye by, like, three full inches. And second, we were _ten_. I think I'm a little more mature now, Scott. I can handle a gun."

"I've heard that before," Malia muttered, earning herself a glare from him.

"You know what? I don't have to take this from any of you. I'm doing it. Deal with it."

Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Scott reached out and patted his best friend on the shoulder. "You do what you have to, man. We support you." As he spoke, the bell suddenly rang, the people around them immediately beginning to head to their classes. Giving Stiles a little shove, he said, "Get going. I'm right behind you." Shooting a final glare at Malia, Stiles pressed a kiss to Lydia's cheek, then turned and headed off down the hallway.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting him use a gun anywhere near me," Malia stated as Scott turned to face her. "I've been shot too many times already."

"Come on, have a little faith. Between his dad and Argent, I think they'll be able to teach him, y'know, _something_. I'm sure with a little practice, he can be... just fine. Probably," he added, when both girls shot him looks of disbelief. "Yeah... I'm gonna head to class. I'll see you later." He addressed that to both of them, but his eyes lingered on Malia, and he saw the corners of her mouth twitch slightly as she nodded.

Turning, he hurried down the hallway after Stiles, catching up to his friend not far from the Economics classroom. All the students were lined up along either side of the hallway, the door still closed and locked, Coach nowhere in sight.

"How is he late on the first day back?" Stiles muttered as they dropped their backpacks and sank back against the wall to wait.

"I don't know. You know he was living here over the break?" Craning his neck, Scott peered through the window in the door, just making sure the man wasn't passed out on his desk or the floor. But the room was empty, and after a second, he shrugged and turned to his face his friend. "Whatever. I'm sure he'll be here. And if he doesn't show, we get to leave."

"Yeah." Stiles grinned and looked at his watch. "Ten minutes. Lydia's got a free period right now. I'll go see if she wants to... study," he said, a smirk flashing across his face as he caught Scott's eye and shot him an exaggerated wink.

Grimacing, Scott shook his head. "Thanks for that. You two making out was exactly the image I wanted planted in my brain this morning."

"No problem, buddy," Stiles said, grinning as he reached out and slapped a hand against his chest. "Always here to ruin your day."

They fell silent then as a couple of late stragglers settled in next to them, loudly expressing their relief they'd still somehow managed to beat the teacher to class. One of them, a short, blonde girl with a ponytail, smiled at Scott, and he hesitantly returned it, then quickly looked away.

"Hey." Stiles dug an elbow insistently into his side until he turned to look. "She's kinda cute," he said softly, jerking his head subtly in the girl's direction.

"Yeah," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably, studiously avoiding looking in her direction.

For a second, his friend watched him, brow creased, eyes narrowed, before he shook his head. "Dude, don't you think it's time you... y'know, moved on? Started playing the field, so to speak. I'm sorry, but Kira's gone, man. Avoiding every girl who might be into you isn't going to change that."

It took every ounce of willpower he had in that moment not to let out the burst of ironic laughter that was fighting to get out of him. How was he supposed to respond to that? Tell him the moving on was already underway, and it was with his own ex? That his interest in playing the field had died sometime between when he first arrived at Lydia's Christmas party and when he left it? Or that avoiding interested girls had nothing to do with any lingering attachment to Kira, but rather a new loyalty, one he wasn't supposed to voice, to acknowledge?

Fortunately, he was saved from having to say anything by the timely arrival of their missing teacher. "Hey! What are you all doing out here?" Stopping in front of the door, Coach gestured to it, eyes wide. "Get in there!"

"Coach," Scott said, stepping forward. "It's locked."

Turning to him, the man narrowed his eyes and threw up his hands. "I know that, McCall! Don't any of you little monsters know how to pick a lock?" He swept his gaze across the gathered people, shaking his head in disgust when everybody just looked back at him silently. "No life-skills, any of you," he muttered to himself as he pulled out his keys and opened the door. "That was your first test of the new year, people, and you all _failed_! Coach is _very_ disappointed. Now get in there! Not you, McCall. You come here."

As everybody streamed into the class, Scott stepped to the side, thumbs hooked in the straps of his backpack. "Yeah, Coach?"

"Lunch. My office. We need to talk about the team. We're gonna whip them into shape, McCall! Since you're gonna be leaving us," he growled, narrowing his eyes and glaring like the whole concept of graduation was somehow Scott's fault, "we need to get those losers ready to play like champions without you. Understand?"

"Yes, Coach."

"Good. Now quit dawdling and get in there. We're already late enough as it is." Muttering to himself about no good kids who didn't recognise the value of being on time, he headed into his classroom, leaving Scott standing in the hallway, shaking his head in amusement.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

The second the bell rang for lunch, Scott shouldered his backpack and hurried out of the classroom, heading for his locker. His goal was to stash his stuff and get the meeting with Coach out of the way as quickly as possible, so he could spend some time with his friends before afternoon classes started.

As he pushed his way through the mass of students heading to lunch, he suddenly caught familiar voices coming from somewhere up ahead.

"I'm just saying, you seem... different lately. I think you met somebody." Lydia's voice was quiet, obviously only meant for Malia, who was walking next to her, but he heard her all the same.

"Yeah, well, maybe you're imagining things. Ever think of that?"

"I'm not. You've been all smiley and happy for days. It takes you hours to answer my texts all of a sudden. You haven't even brought up me and Stiles getting together." They stopped then, having reached Lydia's locker, and Scott quickened his pace, angling toward them. "Admit it. You've met somebody."

"I'm not admitting anything," Malia stated, crossing her arms and glaring at her friend. "For your information, I'm happy because I had a nice, math-less holiday. And maybe if you texted me something interesting, I'd get back to you faster."

Lydia let out a little snort at that. "You're a terrible liar. You met somebody new, didn't you? Come on, you can tell me."

"No."

" _Come on_."

"Lydia, I _promise_ you, I did not meet anybody new."

"Who are we talking about?" Scott asked as he reached them, hiding the smirk that had formed at her very specific response behind a mask of casual interest.

"I think she met a guy," Lydia informed him, before Malia could respond.

"Oh." He glanced at her, could see the warning in her eyes, and couldn't keep the teasing grin off his face. "That's great news. I'm happy for you. When do we get to meet him?" She let out a little growl in response, baring her teeth, and he pursed his lips and turned to Lydia. "I think that means not today."

The redhead nodded, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Yeah, I think you might be right."

"Screw the both of you," Malia grumbled, turning to her own locker and cramming half her books inside. With her back to them, she whispered, so low only his hearing could pick it up, "I'll get you for that."

Chuckling to himself, Scott took a step back and jerked his head down the hall. "I've gotta go meet Coach, but I'll catch up with you guys in the cafeteria in a bit, all right?"

Lydia shook her head. "We'll be in the library."

"Okay. I'll meet you in the library," he amended, as Malia turned back toward him, still scowling. Catching her eye, he winked and grinned, getting an eye-roll and a reluctant smile in return, before he turned and headed for his locker, eager to get things over with and rejoin them.

Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned, as wanted, because Coach was in a chatty mood. Even in small doses, his tendencies to rant and rave and go off on tangents made conversation difficult. Stretched out over nearly a full hour, Scott was about ready to either pull his hair out or punch the guy by the time they finished up and he was able to escape. Despite the time spent, he still had no real clue about exactly what the plan was for the team, other than the vague 'whipping them into shape', but he certainly wasn't going to ask for clarification. It would have probably taken the rest of the afternoon and a good chunk of the evening to even get close.

So by the time he made it to the library, lunch was nearly over, his plans completely shot. Shaking his head, he made his way inside, eyes scanning the room, looking for his friends. He spotted them at a table near the back, Lydia and Malia sitting next to each other, facing him, Stiles across from them, his back to the door.

As he approached, he smiled fondly as he watched Malia scribble furiously in a notebook, a highlighter clenched between her teeth, face screwed up in concentration. Next to her, a huge smile suddenly lit up Lydia's face as she laughed loudly at something Stiles had said. Reaching across the table, he took her hand in his, then stood up and leaned forward for a brief kiss before they both sank back into their seats.

Eyes locked on them, Scott stopped dead in his tracks. In that moment, it all suddenly became clear. He knew what he wanted. He wanted what Stiles and Lydia had, wanted to be able kiss Malia like that, in public, surrounded by people, like it was nothing, like it was easy, just because he could. He wanted to be with her, openly and free. What they'd been doing together, as great as it was, as happy as it made him, it wasn't enough, would never be enough. What he'd told his mom that morning still rang true, but getting things out in the open suddenly seemed a lot less daunting. He could see what lied on the other side of that conversation now, and the desire to get there was nearly overpowering, brushing away his doubts, his insecurities in a flash.

The urge he felt then to just walk up and kiss her was nearly overpowering, but he resisted. As clear as his mind suddenly was, as open his eyes were, he wasn't the only person involved here. Malia's opinion, what she wanted, mattered just as much. Just because he'd suddenly found clarity didn't mean she was going to see things the same way. No, words needed to be said, viewpoints exchanged before he could do anything like that, no matter how badly he wanted to.

The bell to end lunch rang as he was standing there, caught in the grasp of his thoughts, his romantic epiphany, so when his friends gathered their stuff and rose, they spotted him standing there. As they approached, he shook himself back to reality and raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey," Stiles said, "What's up? Where were you?"

"Coach's office," he replied, fighting to keep his eyes from freezing on Malia, praying what he was feeling wasn't written all over his face. "He wanted to talk about the team. Just got out."

"Sounds like fun. Wish I could have been there." Scott rolled his eyes at the grin on his friend's face. "Now we gotta go. I don't wanna be late for class. My dad threatened to impound my jeep if I got detention the first week back."

"Don't you have a key to the impound lot?"

"Oh, yeah, I do. I'd just go take it back. But it'd be a pain in the ass."

Together, the four of them headed for the door, naturally pairing off as Lydia and Stiles took the lead. As he fell into step next to Malia, hyper-aware of how close they were standing, how her arm brushed against his as they walked, he leaned in close and whispered, "Tonight. We really need to talk." When she looked at him, brow furrowing slightly with worry, he smiled reassuringly and quickly slid his hand into hers, staying just long enough to give a little squeeze before pulling back. "Don't worry. I just... there's something I want to talk about. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered back, shooting him a bemused smile.

"Hey! You guys coming? We're gonna be late!"

 **-l-l-l-l-**

It just wasn't his day for plans.

After school ended, Scott headed for Malia's car, ready to talk things out with her, to finally try and figure out where they were headed, what she wanted. He had an hour before he had to be at work, plenty of time to at least get the conversation started, let her know where he was coming from. But then Lydia had appeared, dragging Malia along behind her, and informed him the two of them had made plans so Stiles had been drafted to be his driver. She'd shot him an apologetic look and a shrug as the two girls got into her car, leaving him standing there, staring after them.

So he'd gone to work, spent the time only half-aware of what he was doing, more focused on checking the clock, counting down the minutes, the hours until he was free. Deaton hadn't said anything, but he didn't assign him anything particularly difficult all night, letting him just sort of wander around the clinic, mindlessly killing time.

When it was time to go, he was out the door in a flash, only pausing long enough to wish his boss a good night before he headed out and found his ride waiting for him. Apparently sensing his friend's distracted mood, the normally talkative Stiles barely said a word the whole drive, as Scott drummed his fingers nervously on the arm rest, looking out his window at the passing scenery. A muttered thanks when they pulled into his driveway was all he said, then he was outside and making his way up the driveway, toward the front door.

Just as he reached the door, his phone went off. Pausing, he pulled it out, saw it was from Malia, and quickly opened the message.

— _doing something with my dad so i'll be late tonight_

Frowning, he stood there, staring at the message blankly for a solid minute. Then, slowly, he started to shake his head, a little burst of frustrated laughter bubbling forth. "Of course," he muttered to himself, sighing as he pocketed his phone and opened the door. "Of course."

The second he stepped inside the house, Scott froze, his ears and nose telling him somebody other than his mom was present. It took another second for him to identify the scent, the voice coming from the next room. Grinning, he pushed his feelings for the moment and headed for the living room, where he found his mom sitting on the couch, talking softly to a familiar man.

"Scott," Argent said, spotting him as soon as he appeared in the doorway and rising from his chair, holding out his hand to shake.

"Hey!" Grasping the former hunter's hand, Scott pulled him in for a brief one-armed hug, then grinned widely as he pulled back. "Good to see you! I didn't see your car outside."

"Parked on the street."

"Oh. You know Lydia's pissed at you for skipping her Christmas dinner, right?"

"Yeah, I got her texts," the older man replied, wincing slightly. "I got a little caught up with something, couldn't get away."

"I think she'll forgive you." Taking a step back, he looked from Argent to his mom, brow furrowed in confusion. "What's up? What, uh, what are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," was the reply. "I've got something to show you."

Scott and Melissa both followed the man as he led the way into the kitchen. He shot a confused look at his mom, hoping for a little explanation, but she just shook her head and motioned him forward. There was a large manila folder sitting on the table, and Argent tapped it with one finger, then slid it toward him. Curious, he opened it up, and found himself looking at a photograph of a pair of blonde people, around his age, a girl and a guy. They were both smiling at the camera, happy, their faces similar enough for him to immediately identify them as brother and sister.

"Ashley and Bryan Cobb," Argent stated, in response to his blank look. "Brother and sister. Twins, actually. And werewolves, both of them."

Eyes narrowed, Scott looked back down at the photo, lips pursed. "You think these are the two who were staying in the cave?"

Argent nodded, leaning forward and bracing both hands on the table. "I do. After Stilinski called and told me about the attacks, I had a hunch and looked into it. The attack on the first hiker, the one who was killed, sounded like the work of a shifter that's lost control. It's hard to hide something like that for longer than a couple of weeks, so I thought there was a possibility they were new to town." Sliding the photo aside, he revealed a print out of a map of California, with three spots circled. "There were similar attacks in these three towns, all within the last month. Now, none of those victims died from their wounds, but the specifics were almost identical each time. All at night, in deserted areas, over quickly, and the attacker described in each case as a person who made animal sounds. See any other patterns?"

Melissa was the first to spot it. "A trail." Reaching out, she found Beacon Hills and slowly traced a finger from it, through the three marked towns, forming a nearly straight line leading back to Los Angeles.

"Yeah. So I had some contacts in LA ask around, see if anything happened there recently that might cause two supernatural beings to leave town and start making their way across the state."

"And?" Scott prompted when he paused, caught up in the story.

"And a couple weeks ago, there was a... turf war, I guess you could say, between two fairly large local packs. One of them was almost completely wiped out." Again, he reached down, sliding the map aside to reveal another photo, this one of half a dozen people, one of whom was the girl from the first picture. "Two survivors. Ashley and Bryan Cobb. From what my contacts told me, the boy, Bryan, apparently has control issues, not unlike Liam. Seeing his entire pack wiped out..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Well, I can't imagine it would do much good for him."

"Okay." Scott picked up the first photo and held it up, studying the faces of both people. They looked, for lack of a better word, normal. Not like threats. Just normal teenagers, posing for a picture, standing in front of what looked like a big fountain, bright sunlight shining down on them. "Are you sure it's them?"

"Pretty sure. I stopped here on my way back," Argent said, tapping the circled town nearest them. "They had a description of the girl, called her a person of interest. Somebody spotted her crossing the street just down from where the attack happened and called it in. It's not a perfect match, but it's close enough."

"Why here?" Both men turned to look at Melissa, who was frowning, confusion written all over her face. "Why come to Beacon Hills? I mean, this is a pretty direct path they've taken. Why?"

"The Nemeton," Scott muttered, glancing back at the map.

Across the table, Argent nodded, lips pursed. "Yeah, I think that's right. The supernatural are drawn here, we already know that. When shifters lose control, they get a lot closer to that side of them, as the human side gets buried. The pull would be a lot stronger in that state. I think Bryan was drawn here, and his sister followed him. But I don't know if she's... similarly afflicted, or just trying and failing to rein him in."

"No way to know."

"Not without talking to them," Argent said, nodding in agreement.

Silence fell then, as Scott continued to look at the pictures, at the happiness, the seeming normalcy. He couldn't imagine what he'd do in a similar situation, if his pack was somehow wiped out, leaving him alone. It hurt his heart just thinking about it, and he quickly slipped the map back on top of the photos, clearing his throat loudly as he looked up and met Argent's eyes. "What do we do?"

"For now, nothing." Straightening up, he pointed to Melissa. "The body's still at the hospital, so your mom's gonna get me into the morgue to take a look at it, see if I can find something that's been overlooked or missed. We're gonna have to track these two down as quickly as we can, before they can hurt anybody else, so any little bit helps. And tomorrow, Stilinski's gonna take me up and show me the cave. I want you to spread the word to your friends, make sure they keep their eyes opened, and their ears. These two have been living on the run and possibly in caves for a month, so something tells me they might stand out in a crowd."

"Yeah, okay," Scott said, nodding. "I can do that. You'll call me if you find anything, right? I don't want you going up against two werewolves on your own."

"Yes, Scott, I'll call." The former hunter smiled then, shaking his head as he met his gaze. "If I find them, I'll let you know before I go charging in. I promise."

"Good. Are you two leaving now?"

"Yeah," Melissa said, as Argent closed the file and handed it to him. "There's some leftover pizza in the fridge if you're hungry. Enough for two," she added, drawing a slightly confused look from the former hunter, and a little smile from Scott.

"Thanks, mom."

"Sure."

No further words were said, and Scott watched his mother and Argent make their way out of the house. He stood there, alone in the silence, staring at the file, unable to fully shake the sadness the story of the two Cobbs had sparked in him, wishing he wasn't alone. After a moment, he turned and slowly made his way upstairs, hoping there was something on tv that could distract him.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

The sound of his door clicking shut jarred Scott from his light sleep. His eyes flared open, his heart rate briefly spiking before he recognised the scent of the intruder and immediately relaxed, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hey," Malia said softly as she paused at the end of his bed.

"Hey yourself. What time is it?"

"Just after midnight," she replied, as she started to disrobe, tossing her clothes in a pile in his chair.

He watched her silently as she moved, then lifted up the blankets as she slid into bed with him and got comfortable. "Have fun with your dad?" he asked, as she laid her head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side.

"Ugh. No. We went to dinner with one of his friends, and they just kept going on and on and on about some stupid crap I don't care about. I was just stuck there, listening to them drone on." She paused to yawn, then huffed out a little annoyed breath. "I finally got fed up and left. That's why I'm so late. I walked."

"You walked? Should have called me. I would've picked you up."

"I figured you were probably sleeping. And I was right."

Smiling, Scott rolled his eyes as he wrapped an arm around her, breathing in her scent. No use in arguing about it now. "Argent was here," he said instead.

"I know. Your mom is downstairs. She filled me in." Tilting her head, she looked into his eyes and arched an eyebrow. "You know Stiles is going to go on about being right about this for, like, the next month, right? He's gonna be insufferable."

He snorted at that, as his hand found hers under the covers. "I'm sure Lydia can find a way to shut him up."

"Good point." She yawned again then, longer than the first time, shooting him a sheepish grin once it ended. "Sorry. Long day. I think I'm just gonna get some sleep. I think being back at school, being around so many people again just drained me."

"Yeah, me too."

They fell silent then as she rolled, draping half of herself over him, worming around until she was comfortable. "Oh," she suddenly said, "Didn't you want to talk about something?"

"Tomorrow," he replied, his earlier frustration, the pressing need to confess everything, tell her what he wanted, all pushed to the back-burner. He was content just to lie there, enjoying her warmth, her scent, her being there with him, his own eyes drooping as he started to sink back into the depths of slumber. The words could wait one more day. "Tomorrow."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _Bit of a choppy one here. There were just a lot of things I wanted to cover, things that originally were scheduled to take place over several chapters. But fuck that. I have no patience, apparently. Originally, the first part, the bit where they told Melissa about them wasn't even going to be in this. But I was convinced to include it. So, I hope you enjoy it. A lot of this chapter sets up the next one, so you can probably make some pretty accurate guesses about where that one's gonna go. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think._


	6. 06

**06**

The feeling of fingers gently drumming across his chest drew Scott out of his slumber and back to reality. Slowly, his eyes cracked open, his head instinctively turning to his right, where he knew Malia was, where he knew he'd see her. Sure enough, he found her lying there, stretched out on her side, head propped up on her free hand, eyes closely studying his face.

"Morning," he rasped, voice husky from sleep, unable to keep from mirroring her expression when a bright smile spread across her face.

Instead of responding, she leaned in, her hand moving up to his cheek, tilting his head as she slanted her mouth over his. He couldn't think of a better start to his day, feeling her soft lips move against his, the warmth of her body so close to him, the scent of her all around him. For one not so brief second, he seriously considered asking if she wanted to just call in sick to school and spend the rest of the day there in bed with him. But then his mind went blissfully blank as he let himself get lost in the moment, in her.

When she broke the kiss and pulled back, it took his foggy mind a second to realise she was already fully-dressed. A little confused, he rolled onto his side and looked at her, brow furrowed. "Did I sleep in or did you get up early?"

"You didn't sleep in," she replied, as her hand slowly drifted down, coming to rest on his hip. "Your mom went out for breakfast. She looked in on us before she left, and I couldn't get back to sleep. Figured I might as well get ready for school."

Reaching down, he dropped his hand over hers. "Should have woken me up too. I'm sure I could have entertained you somehow," he said, shooting her a wink and little smile.

"It's okay." She shrugged, shifting a little, dropping her head down on the pillow next to him. "Gave me some time to think about stuff."

"Oh? Anything in particular?"

She hesitated for just a second, so briefly he probably wouldn't have even picked up on it if not for the sudden increase in her heart rate that accompanied it. "Us," she said softly, as he froze, his breath catching in his throat, eyes scanning her face for any clue as to what might be going through her head. "I saw you yesterday."

Swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, he tried to smile. "I saw you too." His attempt at a joke sounded flat even to his own ears.

"I saw you in the library," she clarified, eyes never leaving his. "I saw your face." Again, her hand came up and gently cupped his cheek. "You're not so great at hiding what you're feeling, Scott. At least not from me, I guess. You want..." She trailed off, lips pursed, then let out a sigh and smiled sadly. "You want more than this, more than what we are."

For a second, he was silent, just looking into her eyes, stomach clenching when he saw what looked like apprehension, like worry buried in their depths. In that moment, he really wished mind-reading had been included in the whole werewolf power set, because he couldn't understand what she was thinking, why he was seeing what he was seeing. He knew, without a doubt, that the words they exchanged over the next few minutes would be the most important they'd ever said to each other. And all he could do was pray he wasn't about to say the wrong thing and end the best thing he had going for him in his life.

"I do. Seeing Lydia and Stiles together like that... it made me realise that I want that too." His heart was racing, hammering inside his chest as he reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering. "I want to be able to do stuff like that in public. I want to hold your hand while we walk down the hallway because I like touching you, because it feels right. I want to go out with you and not have to pretend we're just friends. 'Cause we're not, Malia. We're so far from that now it's crazy. I want to kiss you in front of our friends, in front of _everybody_ because the way I feel about you..." He paused and shook his head. "That's not the kind of thing that should be hidden. And I don't think I _can_ hide it anymore. I know I don't want to. I just—"

His words were lost then as she suddenly moved, rolling him onto his back and straddling his waist in one smooth motion. Before he could react, she planted her lips on his, kissing him hard, bruising, passionate. The sudden shift from emotional to physical had his head reeling, but Scott wasn't about to stop what she was doing, giving back as good as he got, arms coming up around her, pulling her tighter against him.

When she broke the kiss a second later and pulled back a bit, all he could do was stare at her, mouth gaping slightly, eyes glassy, lips tingling. He could see something burning in her eyes, something he'd only ever noticed while they were having sex, some emotion, some feeling that sparked a sudden flare of warmth inside his chest.

Looking at his face, her lips twisted in a little smirk, she let out a breathless huff tinged with amusement. "Sorry."

There was a teasing edge to her voice, but what jumped out at him more was the relief he heard there, he saw written on her face, mixed in with the heat, the passion. And he didn't quite understand it, why what he'd said would bring that out. His confusion was enough to jar him out of the semi-stupor she'd left him in, and his eyes narrowed, brow creasing as he looked up at her.

"Malia, what... I mean, that was—I mean..." Trailing off, he reached up and cupped her face with both hands. "Were you... _worried_ about something? I don't—what just happened here?"

Her jaw clenched then as she looked into his eyes, something like embarrassment flashing across her face, which only deepened his puzzlement. "I just—all right, don't laugh but I..." Trailing off, she rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Okay. I was a little worried that maybe what you wanted was more the relationship, and not so much, y'know, _me_. I know we've been getting closer," she quickly added, her words running into each other as her cheeks flushed, her reluctance to admit her fears washed away in the rush to explain them, "but I don't know. A part of me just wondered if it was, y'know, the being with somebody you liked, more than who you were with. And I know it's stupid, but I just—I'm really good with the physical, Scott, but when it comes to the emotional, I freaking suck, all right?"

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He smiled softly, thumbs ghosting along her jaw as she stared down at him, open, bare, raw emotion radiating out. "You're not—you're allowed to be insecure, Malia. It happens to everybody. Look at the other day. I pushed for us to tell my mom, and then I froze up, even though I knew, I _knew_ how she'd react. But listen. You _never_ have to worry about me, about us, all right? I like you. A lot. Like, _really_ a lot," he said, a grin splitting his face as elation bled through his voice, drawing a matching smile from her. "I know this wasn't what we were going for when we started, y'know, whatever you wanna call what we've been doing. But..." He trailed off and shrugged. "But this is where we've ended up. I want a real relationship, and not with anybody else. I want _you_."

That was it, laid out as plainly, as clearly as he could say it. He wanted her in every way, wanted to be hers, no more hiding, no more dodging their friends, no more burying his feelings. And now the ball was in her court.

Silence stretched on between them, her eyes locked on his, as he held his breath, waited. Then, "You've got me." Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his, then pulled back enough to say, "And I've got you."

"Yes, you do," he murmured, before she claimed his mouth in another kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as his arms went around her, pulling her down flush against him.

They lost track of time then, totally engrossed in one another. Scott wasn't sure he could put into words how exactly things felt differently now, but they undeniably did. Whether it was the lingering kisses, the gentle touches, the soft smiles, it was clear as day that getting things out into the open, making a real commitment had made a massive impact. As he let the rest of the world slip away, until it was only her and him and the heat between them, he was sure he'd never been happier, never been more content in his life.

Unfortunately, no matter how bright, how beautiful those few minutes together were, they couldn't last forever. It was Malia who broke away first, letting out a little sigh as she buried her face in his neck. "We need to get going soon," she murmured, breath warm against his skin.

Looking up at the ceiling, Scott nodded reluctantly, gently running his fingers through her hair. "Or we could just stay here," he offered quietly.

Pulling back suddenly, she sat up, planting her hands on his chest, and arched an eyebrow. "All that about really getting together, about being open and all that, and now you want to stay in bed?" She shook her head, lips twitching as she fought to keep a smile off her face.

"Hey, can you blame me? This feels—this is _big_. Kinda really big. And I don't think it's weird to want to spend a little more time alone with my... my girlfriend." He could feel the dopey grin on his forming on his face as he said the word, and it only widened as he watched the same expression appear on hers.

"No, not weird," she said softly, before she rolled off him, stretching out on the bed next to him. Almost unconsciously, her hand found his as they lied there, neither willing to get up yet, to leave the bubble they'd created around themselves. "How do you wanna tell everybody?"

"I don't know," he admitted, pursing his lips. "I kinda just thought we'd, y'know..." He gestured vaguely with his free hand, "tell them. I mean, they're our friends. They're gonna be happy for us. I don't think we really need to... drag it out, right?"

Malia let out a little _hmm_ of agreement. "You're right. We just tell them. That's... yeah." Clearing her throat, she looked at him, squeezing his hand until he turned his head to look back. "At school? Or should we do it somewhere else?"

"Yeah, I think school will be fine." He shrugged. "Listen, I know what we've been saying, and maybe there will be some weirdness with Stiles for a bit, but I really think he's gonna be fine with us. I'm sure he'll say something stupid—"

"He usually does."

Scott grinned. "No argument here. But he's my best friend. He's your friend. He just wants us both to be happy. That we found that happiness together might throw him a little, but I don't know..." He shrugged again, shaking his head slowly. "I've just got a good feeling."

"You're entirely too optimistic sometimes, you know that?"

Raising an eyebrow in challenge, he smirked, absently stroking his thumb along the back of her hand. "Can you think of something better to be optimistic about right now?"

A reluctant smile broke out on her face then, as she looked at him, the grip she had on his hand tightening. "No, I guess not." Then she paused and pursed her lips. "All right, you need to go shower. I'm, like, ten seconds away from saying screw it and getting naked, so go, now." Reaching over, she gave him a little push on his shoulder with her free hand, sliding him closer to the edge of the bed.

"Is that actually supposed to motivate me to leave?" he teased, in too good of a mood not to, even as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "'Cause it's kinda doing the opposite."

"Ugh, just go."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

As he made his way downstairs, hair still damp from the shower, Scott heard voices coming from the kitchen. Entering the room, he found not only his mother and Malia standing there, but also Argent, who was sitting at the table and who raised a hand in greeting when he spotted him standing in the doorway.

"Morning, Scott."

"Morning," he replied absently, barely taking note of the man as he walked forward, his gaze immediately drawn to Malia. She was leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee clutched in her left hand, and her face lit up with a wide smile, matching his own, as he stepped toward her, her eyes finding his. Stopping in front of her, he opened his mouth to say something, only to freeze when he belatedly realised they had an audience. Clearing his throat sheepishly, he instead settled in next to her, ignoring the amusement he could see flare to life in her eyes. "Morning, mom."

"Good morning," Melissa said, a little smile playing about her own lips as she looked at the pair of them.

"What?" he asked, a little more defensively than he'd intended.

She quickly held up her hands and shook her head. "Nothing. Just... you two both seem particularly happy this morning. Anything you'd like to share with the rest of us?"

He hesitated for a second, looking back at Malia, who shrugged and nodded. "Um, yeah, actually. We, uh, we decided it was time to go public." He felt her hand slide into his as he returned his gaze to his mom. "We're gonna tell everybody that, y'know, that we're together now."

"Are you?" Melissa pressed, eyebrows raised. "Together, I mean."

"Yeah," Malia said, looking at him with a soft smile on her face while she squeezed his hand. "Yeah, we are."

Scott's eyes quickly darted to Argent, who looked completely unsurprised to hear any of that. He wasn't sure if the hunter had already figured it out, or if he just had a great poker face. Though he supposed Malia being at his house so early in the morning probably tipped things a little. And that thought made him pause, brow furrowing slightly as he locked eyes with the man. "Why are you here so early? Did you find something last night?"

"We did, actually. But that's not why I'm here." He nodded toward Melissa. "I took your mom out to breakfast, to thank her for helping me out."

"Oh. Okay." Scott looked to his mom, who suddenly became very interested in her coffee cup, avoiding his gaze. Filing that away for further contemplation later, he directed his attention back to Argent and raised an eyebrow. "What did you find?"

"Piece of a werewolf claw, buried deep in one of the wounds on the hiker's chest." Reaching into his jacket, he drew out a little plastic bag and held it up so everybody could see the fragment of claw inside it. "It doesn't really tell us much, other than confirming that it definitely was the work of a shifter. Which we already figured was the case anyway."

Crossing her arms, Malia frowned and fixed her gaze on Melissa. "How did nobody catch that right from the beginning? Aren't they supposed to, like, examine any bodies that get brought in? I've seen CSI."

"There was no autopsy," Melissa explained, shrugging. "It was pretty clear how he died. I mean, his throat was ripped out. And since it wasn't labelled a murder or a suspicious death of some kind, there was no need to dig any deeper." She paused to take a sip of her coffee, then shook her head. "At this point, if a body comes in with any kind of claw marks on it, most hospital staff know it's in their best interest to move on as quickly as possible."

"That's probably for the best," Scott said, drawing a snort from Malia and nods from the others. "All right, where does that leave us then? What's next?"

"Next," Argent replied, as he stashed his find back inside his jacket, "I go check out that cave the two of you found, see if I can find anything you may have overlooked. I'm supposed to meet Stilinski there in..." He checked his watch. "Half an hour."

"Did you want me to come with you? I mean, just in case they came back." Scott tapped his nose. "Might be nice to have a little warning before you try to crawl in there."

Argent pursed his lips and tilted his head, finding Melissa's eyes across the room. "That's probably not a bad idea. Would you mind if I took him along? I know you don't want him missing too much school..."

"No, it's fine," she said, waving away his concern. "I'll give the school a call, let them know he's not coming. Just, y'know, don't make a habit of it." As she spoke, she met Scott's gaze and held it until he nodded. "What about your practice today? Can you miss that?"

"It's after school anyway." First lacrosse practice of the new year. He knew he couldn't miss it, especially with the way Coach had talked his ear off about it the previous day. "I'll be there."

"All right. Guess that's settled." Pausing, she looked at Argent and clapped her hands together. "You guys should probably leave soon then, huh?"

"Yeah, we should."

As Argent rose to his feet, draining the last of the coffee from his cup, Scott made to step away from Malia, only to stop short when she maintained the grip she had on his hand. When he turned back toward her, a bemused smile on his face, she said, "I should come with you. Just in case."

"No, I think we'll be fine. If they are there, we'll hang back and I'll call you, all right?" Slowly, she nodded, just a hint of reluctance visible in the set of her jaw. Smiling softly, he reached out and took her other hand, pulling her in close, and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "Guess it's up to you to tell everybody about us," he whispered when he pulled back.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Not a chance. We do _that_ together."

"Fair enough. We'll do it later then," Scott replied, shooting her a wide grin. Then he turned his head to look at his mom. "Can you give Malia a ride back to her house? She needs to get her books and stuff."

"Sure, honey. We'll follow you out."

"Great." Turning his attention back to Malia, he leaned in for another kiss, this one longer, lingering, his reluctance to part from her now that they were officially together leaking through. She seemed just as loath to pull away, lips moving hungrily over his in complete disregard of their audience. Eventually, Melissa cleared her throat pointedly, and he finally pulled back, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Be careful."

"I always am," he said, grinning when she rolled her eyes. Turning to Argent, purposely avoiding looking at his mom's face and the amused grin he knew would find there, he gestured toward the door. "Lead the way."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"I promise I'll call if either of them turn up," Argent said, as Scott got out of his SUV.

"You'd better," he replied, locking eyes with the man for a second before he stepped back and closed the door. Argent nodded and raised a hand in farewell, then back out of the driveway and drove off. Scott stood there and watched until the car disappeared around the corner, then turned, and headed toward the front door. As he let himself inside the house, he called out, "Mom! I'm home!"

"Any luck?" Melissa yelled back.

"Not really," he replied, making his way into the living room, where he found his mom sitting on the couch, a half-eaten sandwich in her hand, the television tuned to some soap opera. Sighing, he sank down in the closest chair and shook his head. "Didn't really find anything new, just the same garbage that was there the other night. They haven't been back since then."

As she muted the tv, his mom shot him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, honey. I guess that means you guys are sort of back at square one, huh?"

He grunted and rocked his head back and forth. "Yes and no. We looked through all the food wrappers and stuff, and they all seem to be from places in the same area—you know, uh..." He snapped a couple times and frowned, trying to recall the name of the neighbourhood. "Behind the mall. All those crappy restaurants and bars and stuff." She nodded. "Yeah, they were all from around there, so Argent and Sheriff Stilinski are gonna stake it out and hope we get lucky." He couldn't even pretend to be enthused about the plan, fully aware it was most likely a waste of time. But with no other leads to go on, he supposed it was better than nothing.

"Well, that's good, right? I'm sure they'll..." She trailed off, dropping the false cheerful tone and grinning sheepishly when he caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, sorry. That's, uh... I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. How's that?"

"Thanks," he muttered dryly, running his hand through his hair and grimacing when the movement sent a few little pieces of leaf into the air. "I think I'm done crawling into dirty holes in the ground. I'm gonna make Liam do it next time. He's smaller than me."

Melissa let out a little amused breath and smirked. "Wow, someone's grumpy. What happened to that good mood from earlier?"

"I left it in that cave," he grumbled, scowling at her for a moment before his lips began to twitch and a reluctant smile appeared. Shaking his head, he pursed his lips and gestured toward the stairs. "Think I'm gonna take a shower and head to school. If I hurry, I can make it before lunch is over. And then..." He trailed off, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, a thoughtful look sliding onto his face.

"And then?" his mom prompted, as his silence stretched on.

"And then Malia and I have a conversation with Stiles and Lydia."

"Ah." Setting her plate down on the table next to her, Melissa shifted, tucking her legs under her, as she studied his face closely. "You're nervous."

"Yeah," he confirmed, nodding slowly. "A little bit. Don't get me wrong, I want to do this. I have to do this. I don't think I could hide how I feel much longer even if I wanted to. Which I _don't_. Malia and I are together now, and it's time for our friends to know it. And I'm _sure_ they'll be happy for us, really. Both of them. But..."

"But there's still a chance they won't, and you just can't get that out of your head, right?" Meeting her gaze, he nodded, jaw clenching slightly at the sympathy he could see in her warm eyes. "Well, I know this isn't very comforting, but all you can do is just go for it. Say what you have to say and deal with their reactions, whatever they may be. You know your friends, Scott. You know who they are, and you know they love you. They love both of you."

Sighing, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know. And I get it. I really do. Still, though."

Melissa let out a soft little laugh at that, and he could hear the couch creak as she rose to her feet. "I know, honey, I know." Stepping up next to him, she dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed supportively. "Just think about Malia, about what it means for the two of you once everything's out in the open. I'm sure that'll help get you through it."

Cracking his eyes open, Scott smiled up at his mother, and reached up to cover her hand with his. "Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I am," she said, face splitting in a wide grin. "I'm your mom. Moms are always right, kiddo. And now I'm gonna go take a nap so I don't fall asleep halfway through my shift tonight, all right? I'll see you later." Giving his shoulder another squeeze, she took two steps toward the doorway, then paused and turned back. "Oh, and Scott?" Sitting up, he looked at her, one eyebrow raised in question. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for this too."

"Thanks." This time, he meant it.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

As it turned out, Scott didn't make it back to school before lunch ended. The bell rang just as he was getting off his bike, sending all the little groups of students out enjoying the sunshine scurrying back inside. Shouldering his backpack, he set off for class, mostly annoyed he'd missed his chance, but also just a little bit relieved.

The history classroom was mostly empty when he got there, the majority of the students still making their way in from their lockers. He headed for the back of the class, claiming his usual seat, and dug through his bag for his books. As he was doing that, somebody slipped into the seat next to his. He turned to see Stiles had arrived, and was looking at him with an expectant look on his face.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'? Did you find anything in the cave?" His surprise at his friend's knowledge of the situation must have shown on his face then, because Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed. "Come on, Scott. Of course I know about it. You think my dad can really keep stuff like that from me longer than a day or two? Please, give me a little credit. Now," he said, lowering his voice and leaning closer. "Did you find anything?"

Slumping down in his seat, Scott looked at the blackboard and shook his head, tapping his pen lightly against his desk. "No. Your dad and Argent are looking into something, but it's a needle in a haystack, man. We're pretty much waiting on another attack at this point."

"Damn, that sucks." Mirroring his position, Stiles looked around at the rapidly filling room, then leaned over and said, "You know what doesn't suck?"

"What's that?"

"Me being right. Like I was about this."

Closing his eyes, Scott shook his head, then slowly turned to see the cocky grin on his best friend's face. "Dude. Somebody _died_."

"Yeah, I know. And that's really sad. Truly, it hurts me, right here." He held his hand over his heart, his face the picture of sincerity for a second, before that grin came back out in full force. "But I was right. You all doubted me, and you were all wrong. I. Was. Right." He gave a little fist-pump, accidentally caught the books he'd set on his desk, and sent them crashing to the floor, loudly. "Sorry, everybody, my bad," he called, leaning over to gather them up as everybody turned in their seats to look. As he straightened back up, he caught Scott's eye and mouthed 'I was right'.

Letting out a little amused breath at his friend's antics, Scott returned his attention to the front of the room, where the teacher, Mrs. Silva was standing, ready to start the class. Slowly, the usual rumbles of quiet conversation faded away as everybody settled in, and the lesson got underway.

It was maybe fifteen minutes into the class when he felt his phone go off in his pocket. Slowly, he slid down further in his chair and drew it out, careful to keep it out of the teacher's line of sight. Opening his messages, he grinned when he saw it was Malia texting him.

— _saw u in the hallway, any luck?_

He waited until Mrs. Silva turned to write something on the chalkboard before he replied.

— _nothing solid, fill you in later_

He went to put his phone away, but paused when she started typing something.

— _that sucks_  
— _r u in class?_

— _yeah, history. why?_

Again, the little bubble popped up telling him she was typing. While he waited, he kept his eyes on the teacher, just in case she looked his way. Mrs. Silva wasn't as strict about phones in class as some other teachers were, but it still wasn't a great idea to get caught using one while she was in the middle of a lesson.

— _can u sneak out? ive got a free period and i missed u  
_ — _and im way more fun than history_

Smiling to himself, he shook his head, inadvertently drawing Stiles' attention.

— _incredibly tempting, but i can't, sorry_

While she typed back, he looked around the class, making eye contact with Stiles, who arched an eyebrow in question. Ignoring his friend, he finished scanning the room before he looked back at his phone.

— _fine, u can make it up to me later_

She finished that off with a series of emoji that made it very clear exactly what she meant, and he couldn't help but chuckle softly as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He froze when Mrs. Silva looked in his direction, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when she didn't spot anything, she turned away, and he let out a little sigh of relief.

"Dude!" At first, Scott didn't react to Stiles' whisper. But then he tried again, a little louder. "Scott!"

"What?" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

"Who were you texting?"

"What? Why?"

"Because I know that look, Scott." Leaning over, Stiles poked his shoulder hard. "That was a girl. You were texting a girl." There was an unreasonable amount of glee in his voice, clearly audible despite the low volume.

"No, it was my mom," he whispered back, eyes darting around the classroom nervously.

"Bullshit!"

"Mr. Stilinski!" Both of them looked at Mrs. Silva, who'd stopped her lesson and was glaring at them, hands on her hips. "Is there something you'd like to add to the discussion?"

Clearing his throat, Stiles shook his head and sank lower in his seat. "No, ma'am. Sorry."

"Mr. McCall?"

"No, sorry, Mrs. Silva."

They both held perfectly still as she continued to watch them for another moment, only relaxing when she finally went back to her lesson. As soon as she turned away, Stiles leaned back over and poked him again. "Don't try to deny it, dude. I can read you like a book."

For a second, Scott ignored him, jaw clenching as he considered what to do. Stiles was right. He could read him. Which meant for the rest of the day, he'd be hearing it from his best friend. Denying it would only make it worse. His only play was to come clean, and as soon as possible. They both had a free period next, and they had to stick around for practice afterwards, so the timing in that regard was just about right. It sucked that Malia wouldn't be there with him to break the news, but there was nothing he could do about that.

"After class," he finally whispered back, turning his head enough that he could meet his friend's gaze. "I'll tell you everything." That seemed to temporarily satisfy Stiles, who nodded and sank back in his seat.

The remainder of the class seemed to take forever, as Scott's eyes kept darting to the clock hanging on the wall. His foot tapped nervously on the floor, loudly enough it drew a couple frowns from the people around him, all of which he missed, too focused on watching the minutes tick down. Eventually, eternity came to an end, and Mrs. Silva told everybody to put their books away. The bell rang just as he got everything packed away, and he immediately headed for the door, Stiles right behind him the whole way.

Figuring a little privacy might be a good idea, Scott led the way outside, to the picnic tables where they sometimes ate lunch. For a moment after they both sat down, across from one another, he just looked at his friend, internally debating the best approach, until Stiles finally got fed up with waiting and impatiently gestured for him to get on with it.

"Okay," Scott said, after taking a deep breath. "You were right. I was texting a girl. My, uh, my girlfriend, actually."

Stiles' eyes widened and he half-rose to his feet, leaning over the table. "Girlfriend? Scott, what? You have a—why didn't you tell me? When did this happen? Who is it? I have just... so many questions!"

"All right, settle down." He raised his hands and gestured for his too-excited friend to sit back down, which he did, though the expression on his face didn't change. "Yeah, I have a girlfriend. It's pretty new, y'know, we've been sorta together for a couple weeks, but we didn't really put a... label, or whatever, on it until recently. Very recently." He couldn't stop the happy grin from forming on his face at the memory of their talk this morning, but quickly pressed on before it could be commented on. "But yeah, that's what's up."

"Do I know her?"

"Uh, yes, yeah, you do."

Pausing, he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. He could hear his own heart beating fast, his nerves getting the better of him, and nearly groaned when he saw Stiles' eyes narrow in suspicion.

"Scott," he said slowly, drawing out his name. "Why are you so nervous?"

"Okay, so, see, the thing about that is..." He trailed off, then blew out a heavy breath, and just went for it. "It's Malia. I've been seeing Malia. We're together. A couple. It started at Lydia's Christmas party and it just... yeah."

Scott wasn't sure exactly what he was expecting. He hadn't been lying earlier when he'd told Malia he had a good feeling about how Stiles was going to react. As weird as he was sure it would be for his best friend, he also knew the guy loved him, wanted what was best for him. There was no scenario he could have pictured where Stiles wasn't at least a little supportive of them, even if he did try to cover the weirdness with a lot of stupid jokes or pointless babbling.

What he wasn't expecting was the slow nod and, "Okay," he got.

Eyes narrowed, brow furled, he looked at Stiles, who looked back calmly, all the manic excitement of just a few moments ago gone. "Okay? That's it?" He couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, that's it. I'm happy for you, Scott. Both of you. I—" He sighed. "Listen, man, I'm only going to talk about this once, okay? This is serious, and I like to avoid crap like that as much as possible. So we get it out of the way now, and it's done, all right?"

Caught off-guard by the serious tone, Scott nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah, all right. Go ahead."

Leaning forward, Stiles cleared his throat, eyes briefly looking off into the distance before focusing on him. "Okay, so, I just want to say I really care about Malia, y'know, as a friend. Our time together... man, she was my first girlfriend. That's special. I really liked her. We had fun. We... I really liked her. But—and sorry, but this is gonna make me sound like such an asshole," he cautioned, grimacing, like he was reluctant to even say it, "but I never loved her. Not—not like I should have anyway. I realised it after we split. It hurt, y'know, but not as much as it should have. It was way more awkward than it was painful, and I just..." He trailed off and sighed, reaching up and rubbing at his forehead. "Listen, the point is, Malia and I are much better as friends than we were as a couple. And as her friend—and yours—I'm glad you found each other, all right?"

For a second, Scott just sat there, looking at him, trying to process what he was hearing. It wasn't like Stiles never got serious, never opened up to him. But it was still weird to see, to hear him so easily talk about things, especially since he really hadn't been expecting it.

"I—so, we're cool, then?" he finally asked, unsure of exactly how he was supposed to respond.

"What? Yeah. Of course." The look Stiles shot him then made him feel like he'd just asked the dumbest possible question. "Scott, what were you expecting to happen here? Did you think I was gonna, like, scream at you or hit you or something?"

That drew a sheepish grin. "I don't know. No. Maybe." He shrugged. "I kinda hit Isaac when he told me he was into Allison."

"Yeah, well, you're both werewolves, with all your..." He shook his head, hands flailing weakly in the air, "super-strength or whatever. I've just got puny human strength. Pretty sure all hitting you would get me is a broken hand, and I kinda like my hands the way they are." Then he paused. "Although, if you ever tell me anything about what the two of you get up to when you're alone, I will hit you. Just on principle. With my jeep."

The laughter that burst out of Scott then was tinged with relief, and he grinned as he looked across the table at his best friend. "I'll keep that in mind." Falling silent, he shook his head slowly. "Man, this went way better than I thought it would. And I actually thought it would go pretty good."

"Yeah, I'm a pretty great friend, Scott. You're lucky to have me," Stiles said, winking at him. Then he slapped his hands down on the table and jerked his head in the direction of the parking lot. "Enough of that. Come on, let's go get some food, power up for practice. You're buying."

"Fair enough," Scott replied, as he rose to his feet and hoisted his backpack up on his shoulder. "I wanna be back when classes end though. I want to let Malia know that I told you before she leaves."

"Yeah, all right. And hey, on the way, you can explain why it took so long for you to tell me."

Scott just groaned.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

When they got back to the school, Scott headed inside while Stiles went to find his stick and jersey. The final bell of the day had evidently rang just before they arrived, as the hallways were packed with students preparing to head home. He fought his way through the rush, aiming for Malia's locker. As he approached, he saw her standing there with her back to him, Lydia leaning back against the locker next to hers.

"Hey, Scott," she said, as she spotted him coming toward them. He lifted a hand in greeting, eyes briefly darting to Malia when she turned around and flashed him a quick smile. "No luck with the cave, huh?"

Pausing in front of them, he hooked his thumbs in the straps of his backpack and tilted his head. "You know about that?"

"Yeah, Malia filled me in. Don't worry, I won't tell Stiles."

"Go ahead. He already knows." His focus shifted to Malia, eyes locking onto hers. "Stiles knows _everything_." As he spoke, he arched an eyebrow, trying to make it as clear as possible exactly what he meant. From the way her eyes widened slightly, he figured she got the message.

"Hey!" They both turned their attention to Lydia, who was looking between them, eyes narrowed, suspicion written all over her face. "What was that? I heard that. What do you mean?"

Instead of responding, the two just looked back at each other. When Malia tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in silent question, Scott just shrugged.

"Okay," she said, turning back to Lydia, who was starting to look angry, glaring at them both, displeased at being left out of whatever it was they were silently communicating about. "Yesterday, when you were teasing me about seeing somebody, you weren't _entirely_ wrong. Just partly wrong." Reaching out, she grabbed his hand, and Lydia's eyes widened, comprehension immediately setting in. "Scott and I are dating."

For a second, silence reigned between the three of them. Scott could see the wheels turning behind their friend's eyes as she looked from one of them to the other. "My party," she finally said, gaze locking onto him, and he nodded. "I noticed a difference. You two..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "And the next day. I saw you looking at each other while we were cleaning up. I just... how didn't I figure this out?" Frowning, she looked between them again. "Actually, forget about that. I would have figured it out."

Grinning, he nodded in agreement, as Malia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you would have. That's part of why we decided to tell everybody. And so we could do this."

Turning to Malia, he reached out and cupped the side of her face. She raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes, the corners of her mouth ticking up as he slowly leaned in. The world didn't end when they shared their first public kiss. The earth didn't shake. It was just a kiss. Except it wasn't, and when Scott pulled back, he was sure the grin stretching his face was never going to leave it. It felt good, great, better than he could have envisioned to finally physically express their connection out in the open, in front of their friend, where anybody could see them. And from the way she was smiling, looking at him, he knew she felt the same.

"You two look good together."

Lydia's voice penetrated through the bubble that had enveloped them as they stared at each other, letting the reality of the situation sink in. In unison, they turned toward her, finding her looking back, a little smile on her face as she watched them.

In that moment, Malia's hand in his, his lips still tingling where they'd touched hers, his best friends finally in the know, aware of what they were doing, Scott was as happy as he could ever remember being. A month ago, he would never have predicted he could feel like this, never would have seen it coming. And that made it all the more special, impactful, that something so great could come out of nowhere like that.

It was a great day. Things were good.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _I don't know about this chapter. I felt pretty good about the first two sections, and then completely lost it after that. Took me forever to pick it back up. I wanted to have an action scene in here, actually wrote part of it, but it just didn't fit. I wasn't even going to have the reveal to Stiles in this chapter originally, but my style of writing means most planning immediately gets thrown out the second I get any kind of impulse at all. And that's how you get whatever this was. Hopefully you liked it. Let me know either way. I'm going to be wrapping this story up in a couple of chapters, so if you have any input, now's the time to send it in. Thanks for reading._


	7. 07

**07**

Leaning on his lacrosse stick, Scott grinned as he watched Corey launch yet another shot past the goalie. The chimera had been on fire all practice, the extra work they'd all put in with him over the holidays paying dividends now. And he wasn't the only one, Liam running around the field like a man possessed, dodging defenders and scoring goals, making his intent to be the next team captain clear to everybody watching.

"We did a good job with those two," Stiles said, as he stepped up next to him and threw an arm over his shoulders.

Scott snorted. "Yeah, we sure did. I mean, I helped them improve their shooting and learn to read opposing players better, and you... uh, what exactly did you do again?"

Face twisting in mock pain, Stiles clasped a hand over his heart and shook his head. "Ouch, man, that hurts. Isn't it obvious? I helped build their confidence by letting them score on me so much. And it clearly worked. I mean, look at them." With his free hand, he gestured toward Corey, who'd just scored again, then wiped away an imaginary tear. "Beautiful. And both of us are equally responsible for it."

"Letting them score, huh?" Scott said, shooting his friend an amused smirk.

"That's my story and I am sticking to it."

Before he could reply, a shrill whistle sounded, signalling the end of practice. Everybody slowly made their way to the sideline, where Coach was standing, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. "That was pathetic," he stated as they gathered around, "but at least some of you had some hustle. Next time, I'd better see improvement! I'll replace every single member of this team. I don't care." Pausing, he glared around at the group, meeting everybody's eyes before he pointed at the school. "Now hit the showers and get the hell out of here. Coach has places to be." He waved his arms wildly toward the parking lot, then turned and stormed off.

"Good talk, Coach!" Stiles yelled after him. "Real motivational!" Shaking his head, he frowned and muttered, "We should have left him in rehab."

Chuckling, Scott gave his friend a shove toward the school. "Let's go. The girls are waiting." Lifting a hand, he pointed toward the stands, where Malia and Lydia were sitting with Mason and Hayden. Stiles took a step in their direction, before he caught him and redirected back toward the school. "Shower first, man. You kind of reek."

"Thanks, buddy," was the dry reply he got, as they both trailed after Corey and Liam, heading for the locker room.

Eager to get out of there, to get back to Malia, he wasted no time in getting cleaned up. He felt like the small amount of time they'd spent together this morning, and the few minutes after they'd told Lydia about them wasn't even close to enough, especially given the change in their relationship status. With no work to do, no plans, no worries about being discovered, and no calls or texts from Argent, he intended to take full advantage of his empty house to prove to her exactly how good of a boyfriend he could be.

The first one out of the showers, he didn't wait around, heading back outside and straight for the parking lot as soon as he was dressed. He found Hayden waiting right outside the door and told her Liam was coming before he continued on his way. The second he stepped onto the asphalt, his eyes found Malia, leaning against her car, talking with Lydia and Mason as they waited. Mason spotted him first, lifting a hand in greeting as he approached, and drawing everybody's attention to him.

"Hey," he said, as he drew even with the group, briefly nodding at his friends before his gaze settled on Malia.

The smile that spread across his face when she immediately extended her hand for him to take was massive, happy. It struck him hard then, as he reached for her, how great it felt that they could do that now, whenever they wanted, whenever they got the urge. Focused entirely on her, he didn't even notice the look of surprise on Mason's face, or the little smile on Lydia's.

"Hey," she said back, giving a little tug on his arm, bringing him toward her. His hands went to her waist as she pulled him in for a kiss, lingering just a long enough to get his heart beating a little faster. When they broke apart, she arched an eyebrow, a smirk twisting her lips. "You looked awful out there."

Grinning, he snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, well, I was a little distracted. Didn't think you were gonna be there."

The plan they'd briefly discussed before practice had been for her and Lydia to go eat, and then meet back up with them after practice. So when he'd looked up halfway through and spotted the two of them in the stands, it had caught him off-guard. It wasn't his fault he'd been in the middle of a play at the time, defending the goal, and his momentary lack of concentration had ended up with him getting flattened by a charging Liam. Or that his smirking Beta had taken every opportunity the rest of the way to remind him of what he'd done.

"At least you didn't get shown up by a freshman this year," she offered, before he leaned back in for another kiss.

"Didn't break anybody's bones either," he murmured against her lips. "Which means my night is completely free. How about yours?" He could hear the desire in his own voice, and from the anticipatory grin that formed on her face, he figured she heard it too. Aware they had an audience, he resisted the powerful urge to really kiss her, to lose himself in her, and settled instead for a heated look and a squeeze of her waist before he pulled back.

"So..." Mason said slowly when they broke apart, drawing their attention toward him. "I guess you two are..." He trailed off and gestured vaguely between them. "Together now?"

Malia arched an eyebrow. "What gave it away?"

Scott chuckled as he settled in next to her, shoulder to shoulder, and slipped an arm around behind her. "Yeah," he said, nodding at Mason, "we're together. Speaking of, would you mind doing us a favour?" he added, making a spur of the moment decision. "Would you mind spreading the word to everybody else? We're gonna take off."

"Whoa, whoa!" Mason blurted out, throwing up his hands. "What do you mean spread the word? Doesn't everybody already know?"

"Stiles knows. Lydia knows. And now you know. And as much as I'd love to stand around here and fill in everybody else, we kinda have..." He cleared his throat. "Uh, somewhere else to be." Lydia let out a little amused noise then, drawing his attention toward her and the knowing smirk on her face. Very briefly, he pondered why it didn't embarrass him to realise just how transparent he was being, but then Malia leaned into his side, flooding his senses with her scent, her warmth, and all he could think about was getting somewhere private as quickly as possible. "So, yeah, we're gonna just... yeah."

"Get out of here," Lydia said, amusement dripping from her words. "I'll let everybody else know. You want me and Stiles to get everybody up to speed on our little twin problem too?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea," he replied gratefully, a little annoyed with himself for forgetting Argent's request to let his friends know. "Just let me know if he's already got the pictures of them. I don't know if Argent gave any to Sheriff Stilinski or not. If not, I'll send them to you, all right?"

"Okay, sure."

"But once that's done, don't bother us," Malia warned as she pulled away from him and headed around to the driver's side of her car. "Our phones will be off."

Chuckling at her lack of subtlety, Scott caught Lydia's eye and shook his head at the entertained look on her face. "We'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Maybe," Malia stated, as he opened his door and slid in next to her. When he shot her a questioning look, she shrugged. "What? I think you had the right idea this morning. Maybe we'll just call in sick tomorrow. I'm thinking spending the day with my boyfriend is a little more fun than school. Especially if we're naked."

"Just a little?" he asked, grinning as she started the engine. "Wow, I must have been doing something wrong all this time. Pretty sure watching paint dry is a little more fun than school. Thought I was better than that." Pausing, he shook his head, a mock frown on his face. "Guess I'm gonna have to step up my game."

"Hey." Meeting his gaze, her hand found his across the center console. "I've got no complaints so far... but a little extra effort never hurt anybody," she teased, an impish grin twisting her lips. "There are a few things I've been thinking about trying out..."

Throwing his head back, he let out a burst of laughter, his hand squeezing hers gently. "Good thing we've got all night. Let's go."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

Staring up at his ceiling, Scott let out a little amused breath as he slowly stroked his hand up and down Malia's back. She was lying over him, her head pillowed on his chest, one arm thrown across his stomach. "I know you're awake," he murmured, tilting his head to look at her just as she shifted and looked up, a little grin on her face. His hand came up and cupped the side of her face, stroking her cheek tenderly with a thumb before he leaned in for a soft, lingering kiss.

"What time is it?" she asked quietly once he pulled away.

Letting out a grunt, he reached out blindly with his left hand, fumbling around on his bedside table until he found his phone. Turning it on, he tilted his head just enough to see it, squinting against the sudden brightness, then groaned, and let it drop back down. "Three-thirty. I'm definitely not going to school tomorrow. Or today, whatever."

She frowned. "You didn't sleep at all?"

"In and out," he replied, shrugging, before a grin spread across his face. "I think you've kinda messed up my sleep patterns a bit. Which, uh, yeah, that's a sacrifice I'm more than happy to make."

Shaking her head, she craned her neck to kiss him again, then slowly sat up, straddling his waist. "I'm a bad influence on you," she said, as his hands instinctively moved to her hips.

"No." He shook his head, absently rubbing little circles against her warm skin with his thumbs as he looked up at her. "We've just had an unusually long period of no crazy attacks or monsters out to murder us. I guess it's easy to get a little complacent when you're not running for your life every night." That drew an amused huff from her, and he grinned back in response. "No, I think we should just consider this training for the next time something comes along and we're spending our nights just trying to survive."

"The practical advantage of having sex every night?" she asked, arching an eyebrow, a little smirk playing about her lips.

"Sure. It could save your life."

"Well," she said, as she abruptly slid off him and stretched out along his side, "as far as selling points go, that's not bad. Not sure it's really necessary though. I think the sex kinda sells itself, don't you?"

"Yeah, you're probably right." Turning on his side, he propped his head up on his hand as his eyes found hers. "But that doesn't mean you should overlook the advantages. I mean, it's good exercise. I'd choose this over jogging every single time. And you really work up an appetite, so, y'know, you gotta keep buying food. Which is motivation to get a job and make some money, stimulate that economy." Trailing off, he pursed his lips to keep from cracking up, a fight he nearly lost when he saw her struggling to do the same. "See what I mean? It's just... it's very far-reaching. The benefits are pretty much endless."

For a moment, Malia was silent, just looking into his eyes, lips twitching slightly. Then she let out a little noise halfway between a snort and a giggle and rolled her eyes. "Wow, that was... really something. Sounds like you've really thought that through."

"Hey, you're not the only one whose mind wanders during math class."

She lost the hold she'd had on her amusement at that, letting her head fall back as the laughter burst free. Chuckling himself, Scott reached out and rested a hand on her hip, smiling as he studied her face. He really liked those moments when she opened up like that. It seemed strange to think of somebody as aggressively straight-forward as Malia as restrained, but he'd come to realise that's exactly what she was. She didn't hide much, but the real emotion, good or bad, too often stayed locked up, kept close. But she was looser with him now, less guarded, and every time he saw a little of what she once would have kept inside, it touched him in a way he wouldn't have expected.

Once her laughter faded away, she locked eyes with him again, and he could see the heat in their depths. Coming forward, her lips found his again, the kiss quickly turning passionate as she slanted her mouth over his. When she caught his lower lip with her teeth, he growled and rolled them over, settling his weight on top of her and reaching up with both hands to frame her face.

Scott was fully prepared to go another round, but only a moment later, he felt her hands flatten against his chest, gently pushing him away. Confused, he drew back, brow furrowed slightly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, this is great," she quickly assured him, before a sheepish smile formed on her face. "But I am freaking _starving_."

Huffing out an amused breath, he pursed his lips and tilted his head. "Yeah, I guess we did kinda skip dinner, huh?"

"Wasn't hungry then. At least not for food." She arched an eyebrow, a flirty little grin briefly twisting her lips, and he felt a little spike of desire jolt through him. "But now I am. And as much as I'd _love_ to keep doing this..." She wiggled her hips in a way that had him groaning and gritting his teeth. "I think we should eat. 'Cause growling stomachs? Not so sexy. And, y'know, gotta keep that energy up, right? Something about the economy."

It was hard to argue with that. Especially since now that she'd brought it up, he could feel the dull ache of hunger in his own belly. He'd eaten with Stiles before practice, but that was twelve hours and a lot of rather vigorous movement ago. So, with a sigh, he reluctantly rolled off her and sat up. "Yeah, you're right," he said, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "But, hey, you know I actually do find it pretty sexy when you growl, right?"

Rising up on her knees behind him, she looped her arms over his shoulders. "Like this?" Her breath was warm against his ear, and when she let out a low growl, her nails scratching against his chest, he shivered.

"Yeah, like that," he murmured, clasping his hands over hers as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck. He could feel the smile form on her lips, before she slowly started to nibble her way down to his shoulder. "Wow, you really are hungry, huh?"

" _Yes_!" Nipping at his ear hard enough to draw a hiss of pain from him, Malia abruptly pulled away. The mattress moved under them, springs creaking, as she got off the other side of the bed and let out a sigh. "Is your mom home yet?"

"I don't think so," he replied, as he rose to his feet and stretched expansively. "I think her shift ended at three though, so she should be home anytime."

"So, clothes, then?"

"Probably a good idea."

Stepping over to his dresser, he grabbed himself a pair of sweatpants, then tossed her one of his shirts. They dressed in silence, then headed for the door, her hand finding his as she led the way out into the hallway and down the stairs. They didn't bother with any lights, both very comfortable moving around in the dark. In the kitchen, she took a seat at the table as he grabbed some leftovers out of the fridge and held them up for inspection. When she nodded, he turned and popped them into the microwave.

"So, I've been thinking," she said softly, fingers tapping a quick beat on the tabletop as he leaned back against the counter, waiting for the food heat up. "We should go out tomorrow night."

Crossing his arms, Scott tilted his head slightly as his eyes met hers. "You mean, like, on a date?"

"Yeah." She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. "We're officially a couple now, so, y'know, we should actually go out and do couple stuff. I know we went to the movies, but that wasn't... we weren't _together_ together then. Not openly." Pausing, she shrugged. "You don't work or have practice, and I've got nothing going on, so why not, right? I mean, if you want to." There was just the slightest bit of uncertainty in her voice, in the way she shifted in her chair, the way her heartbeat increased almost imperceptibly.

"Hey, of course I want to," he quickly said, leaning toward her, willing her to see his feelings in his eyes. It was easy to forget, sometimes, with how forward, how confident she usually was, that this was all just as new to her as it was to him. There were bound to be some doubts, some insecurities that would flare up from time to time. But never the same ones twice, if he had his way. "If you want to go out every night, I'll find a way to make it happen. Okay?" Gaze locked on his, she nodded slowly, a happy smile spreading across her face. "So, it's a date. I mean, unless something, y'know, comes up. Which, given my track record..." Trailing off, he sighed and shook his head. "I have the worst luck when it comes to dates."

Getting to her feet, she made her way over to him, slipping her arms around him as his found their way around her shoulders. "Do you? It takes two, right?" she asked, as he pulled her close, relishing the warmth of her body pressed against his. "Maybe it wasn't you who had the bad luck."

Letting out a little amused breath, he inclined his head and grinned. "Yeah, maybe. I guess we'll find out." They were interrupted then by the beeping of the microwave, and after a brief kiss, reluctantly broke apart. Scott turned toward the counter, only to pause when he heard the sound of a car door closing. "I think my mom's home."

As he finished speaking, he heard the sound of keys in the lock, and the familiar creak of the front door opening. That was normal. What was less normal was the excited giggle that followed, or the decidedly masculine chuckle that accompanied it. The unmistakable sound of two people kissing was next, then footsteps as they made their way farther into the house, closer to the kitchen. Eyes wide, he turned to the doorway just as the lights flared to life, revealing his mom locked in a passionate embrace with Argent.

"What the hell?"

His words had the same effect on the pair as an air horn would have. They immediately jumped apart, turning toward him, eyes wide, faces flushed, mouths gaping open. For a second, nobody moved, just staring at each other, waiting for somebody else to break the weird, awkward tension that suddenly blanketed the room.

Argent was the first to recover some composure. "Scott," he said, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. "We, uh, we thought you two would be asleep."

"I guess you thought wrong, huh?"

Scott's tone was light, despite his initial reaction. The shock of unexpectedly catching his mother kissing anybody, let alone a man he considered a friend, was pretty intense, but it was already fading, replaced by what felt more like amusement than anything else. Maybe it was because he was tired, or maybe because he'd been in such a good mood, but all he could think was how funny the whole situation was, almost a reversal of roles, the teenager catching the parent making out with somebody. And given what he'd just spent the night doing, it wasn't like he was in much of a position to judge.

"Well," Malia said, when both Melissa and Argent continued to stand there uncomfortably, looking everywhere but at them, "this is awkward. Scott, I'll be upstairs." Grabbing the food and some cutlery, she quickly headed out of the room, leaving the three of them alone.

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like the place to be." He tried to follow her path, only for his mom to let out a heavy sigh and step in front of him. She opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly threw up his hands and shook his head, grinning. "You don't need to say anything. Your business, the two of you, not mine. Just, please, remember Malia and I both have super-hearing, so, y'know... yeah." Reaching out, he put a hand on each of their shoulders, squeezed once, then quickly made his escape, almost jogging up the stairs.

When he stepped back into his bedroom, he found Malia already digging into the food, sitting cross-legged on his bed, fork in hand. "Sorry," she mumbled around a mouthful, "I thought you'd be longer."

"Not a chance," he said, as he closed his door and leaned back against it. "Listen, I'm all for my mom, y'know, finding somebody. I want her to be happy. And if she and Argent are... doing... stuff, I'm happy for both of them. But the less I have to talk about it, the better. That's, uh..." He trailed off and shuddered. "That's just not what I want to be thinking about. At all."

She let out a little _hmm_ of agreement, then pointed at him with her fork and smirked. "The look on your face when they came in was..."

Shaking his head, he made his way over to the bed and took a seat on the end. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he muttered, as he reached for his own fork and pulled a plate toward him. "Not gonna be so funny when you realise what a complete mood-killer that was for me."

Locking eyes with him, Malia grinned and arched an eyebrow. "I like a challenge. Now hurry up. I've got more plans for you."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"Nice boxers, Scott."

Coming out of his bathroom, he nearly tripped when he heard the unexpected voice, dropping the towel he'd been drying his hair with and scanning the room with wide eyes. Malia was still sitting in bed where he'd left her, clad in his discarded shirt and openly grinning at him. Perched in his chair was Lydia, an amused smirk on her face as she looked at his heart-covered underwear.

"Oh, hey." He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest in a reflexive, pointless effort to cover himself. "I, uh, I didn't know you were here." He'd been humming to himself as he dried off, hadn't even considered the possibility anybody else had shown up while he was in the shower.

"Clearly." Her voice was dry as she caught his eye and raised an eyebrow teasingly.

"You're lucky." They both turned toward Malia, who still had that wicked grin on her face. "Usually, he comes out of there naked." Pausing, she ran an appraising eye up and down his body, then looked at Lydia and shrugged. "Or maybe you're unlucky."

"All right, all right," Scott said, shaking his head and huffing out an amused breath as Lydia started giggling. "It is way too early in the morning for you two to gang up on me." Turning away from them, he grabbed some clean clothes out of his dresser and started pulling them on. Once his jeans were on, he felt a little more comfortable, enough to shoot Lydia a concerned look as he shrugged on his shirt and buttoned it. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine," she quickly assured him. "I just wanted to let you guys know everybody's been brought up to speed. About everything. We showed them all the pictures of the Cobbs, so they'll be on the lookout for both of them." Pausing, she met his gaze, a little smirk tugging at her lips. "I sent you a text but you didn't respond. Figured I'd look in on the two of you, make sure you were at least taking breaks to eat and sleep."

Looking away, he cleared his throat, hands absently smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. "Oh, right. Malia, could you..."

Leaning over, she grabbed both their phones off the table and tossed his to him. At her insistence, he'd switched it back off after they'd finished eating, so he turned it on again and quickly looked at his messages. Sure enough, there was one from Lydia. There were also two missed calls, both from the same number, one he didn't recognise. He looked at it suspiciously for a moment, until sudden movement across the room drew his eye. He looked up just as Malia slid off the bed and stretched, biting back a groan at the way the action made the hem of her shirt ride up just a little bit.

"I'm gonna take a shower." As she headed past him, she paused to give him a long, lingering kiss, as his arms went around her. When she pulled away, she smirked and dropped her hands to his ass, squeezing hard enough to make him jump. "Yeah, definitely unlucky," she murmured, shooting a grin over her shoulder at her laughing friend, as Scott blushed. "See you later, Lydia."

Without another word, she headed into the bathroom, and his eyes followed her the entire way. When the door closed behind her, he let out an involuntary little sigh, completely forgetting he wasn't the only person in the room.

"Wow, you're really into her, huh?"

Shaking himself lightly, he turned toward Lydia, eyes wide, and found her staring back at him, studying his face searchingly. Smiling sheepishly, he rocked his head back and forth as he slipped his phone into his pocket. "Yeah, I kinda am. I, uh..." Trailing off, he shrugged, smile morphing into a wide grin. "She's great, and I just... yeah. Yeah." He couldn't find the words, but from the look on her face, he figured he was getting his point across.

"Good, I'm happy for you. For both of you." Rising to her feet, she stepped over to him and mirrored his position, leaning back against his dresser next to him. "I didn't get a chance to say it yesterday," she said softly, bumping his arm with her shoulder, "but I'm glad the two of you found each other. I think you'll be good together, Scott, good for each other. It's pretty clear she makes you happy, and you do the same for her. It's really nice to see the two of you so upbeat."

Turning his head, he flashed her a soft smile that quickly transformed into a smirk. "And the fact us being together gives you and Stiles a chance to spend more time with each other has nothing to do with it, right?"

"Of course not," she said, putting just enough of an edge into her voice to make him shift nervously, before she cracked a smile and bumped his arm again. "None of my motivations are ever selfish. Come on."

Crossing his arms, he chuckled and shook his head. "Right, sorry, my mistake. Hey, you and Stiles are good too, right? I mean, I haven't really asked or anything. Been kind of distracted." Looking at her, he raised an eyebrow in question. "But things are... you're happy too, right?"

"Yeah, Scott, I'm happy. We both are. Things are great. I mean, it's Stiles, so things can be a bit... trying at times," she admitted, drawing a grin from him. "But... it feels good. It almost feels like nothing's really changed between us, honestly. Other than the obvious, of course. He's still frustrating and annoying and way too loud sometimes. But then sometimes he says something, or gets this look in his eyes, and I just..." She let out a little sigh. "I love the idiot. I really do."

"Wow. That's pretty big."

Meeting his gaze, she snorted softly and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, he told me he loved me, like, six times while we were talking on New Year's Eve. And I was still pissed at him then. Anybody else but him and it would have been weird. But with Stiles... it's just the way he is. Part of the charm, I guess." She shrugged. "It's definitely unlike any other relationship I've had before. And I think that's a good thing. I've been with some guys that just... well, things haven't always been so healthy. This is so different in so many ways, and I just... I think it's what I need, what I deserve. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah." His eyes involuntarily darted to the bathroom door, a little smile sliding across his face. "Yeah, I do."

They faded into silence then, both lost in their own thoughts, their own musings about their respective relationships. It was only when Malia began singing loudly that they stirred, coming back to reality at the sound of her enthusiastic but badly off-key efforts.

Scott grinned at the look on Lydia's face, a mixture of amusement and distaste, and nudged her toward the door. "Come on, she's gonna be awhile. And before you ask," he continued, as he followed her out of the room, closing his door behind them, "yeah, she knows she's not great. She just doesn't care. I asked. Oh, wait." Pausing at the top of the stairs, he craned his neck and looked down them. "Was my mom down there when you came in?"

"Yeah."

Just the way she said the word had him turning toward her, grimacing a little. "Malia told you?"

"Yep." She popped the 'p' and grinned at him, amusement written all over her face. "Your mom and Argent, huh? I'm sure that won't be weird or awkward at all."

Choosing to ignore her, he took a deep breath and started down the stairs. What he'd said to Malia earlier hadn't been a lie. If his mom was interested in Argent—and all signs pointed to yes—he was more than happy to let them do their thing, see where it went. Honestly, he kind of liked the idea of her having somebody around her who was comfortable with the supernatural, already a part of that life, his life. But given his history with the former hunter, it was a little strange to think of the two of them getting together, and just because he was okay with it didn't mean he wanted to talk or think about it anymore than he absolutely had to.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Scott found his mom sitting in her usual spot at the table, cup of coffee in one hand, book in the other. She looked up as they stepped into the room, hesitating briefly before shooting him a strained smile that turned a little more genuine when she spotted their visitor.

"Hey, Lydia. Staying for breakfast?"

"No, thanks, I already ate. I've gotta pick up Stiles and head to school. Scott, I'll text you later, all right?" Raising a hand in farewell, she smiled at them both, then headed for the door, leaving them alone.

For a moment, silence reigned in the kitchen, as he loitered in the doorway, unsure of exactly what to say. "So," Melissa finally said, putting down her book. "You're not going to school today?"

"No, it's, uh, it's a half-day anyway. Some assembly or something this afternoon. Malia wanted to spend the day together, so we're just..." He trailed off then, shoving his hands in his pockets, and sighed. "All right, let's just talk about it, get it out of the way. You and Argent."

Finally meeting his gaze, Melissa held it for a second, lips pursed, then nodded. "Yeah. We're just... I don't know." She shrugged. "There's... an attraction there, and we thought we'd, y'know, see where it goes." She spoke slowly, like she was carefully choosing her words. "And I know it must be weird for you—"

"It is," he interjected, raising his hands, cutting her off. "But that doesn't matter. What you want matters. What I said last night stands. I guess what I'm saying is you don't have to worry about me acting weird or avoiding either of you or anything. You support me, and I support you, no matter what," he said, mirroring her expression as a wide smile spread across her face. "I wasn't kidding though, y'know, about the super-hearing. So just keep that in mind. _Please_."

Shaking her head, she let out a little chuckle, and he did the same, relieved that things had gone so smoothly. "I'll do that," she said through her laughter, as the corner of her mouth ticked up into a teasing smirk. "And I'll let Chris know we have your approval. I'm sure he'll be very relieved."

"Yeah, I bet he's just been waiting with bated breath to get that," he replied dryly as he stepped farther into the room and sank into his chair. "Wait." His face twisted into a grimace as his eyes darted toward the stairs. "He's not here, is he?"

"No, no, he left after you went upstairs last night. The mood was kinda dead at that point. But..." she said slowly, as she headed over to the sink and rinsed out her empty cup, "we are going out tonight. On a real date. So, fingers crossed it goes better than every other date I've had in the last ten years."

"Well, at least this time you know if he runs out on you, there's a good reason," Scott offered.

"Thanks. Not helping."

"Sorry. You want me to have a word with him? I don't know how effective the werewolf stuff will be on him, but I can try. Or I could have Malia threaten to rough him up a bit if he acts like a dick. She can be pretty intimidating when she wants to be."

Leaning back against the counter, she snorted and shook her head. "No, that's all right. I think we'll be fine." Then she paused, her expression turning considering. "Speaking of Malia, I assume things went well yesterday."

"They did," he confirmed. "Stiles was really cool about it all. And I was never really worried about Lydia. But yeah, everybody knows now, so, yeah. Everything's out in the open." Even just saying it, he couldn't help but smile, still not over just how good it felt knowing that was true. "We were actually thinking about going out tonight too."

"That's great, honey. I'm glad." Then she grinned. "What do you think? Double date?"

Scott grimaced, but before their conversation could go any farther, he felt his phone go off and quickly pulled it out. His eyes narrowed when he saw it was a call from the same unknown number as before. Frowning, he sent it to voicemail, but before he could put his phone back in his pocket, it went off again. This time, a familiar name and number appeared on the screen.

"Hey, Sheriff."

"Morning, Scott. Do you think you could come down to the station for a few minutes? As soon as possible, if you don't mind." There was something in the man's voice that immediately had the hair on the back of his neck standing up. "There's something I'd like for you to take a look at."

"What's wrong?" he asked tersely.

"Nothing, nothing," Stilinski quickly said. "Just... there's something I'd like for you to see. Is Malia with you?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Better bring her along. She should probably see this too." This time, there was clear reluctance in his voice.

"Sheriff, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," the man repeated. "I've just... I've got some footage here, and I'd like both of you to take a look at it and give me your opinion, all right? It could be nothing, but... well, you'll see. You'll come?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Just give us... like, half an hour, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Scott."

After the call ended, he just stood there for a moment, a frown on his face, and looked at his phone. "If you ever catch me being cryptic," he finally said, looking up and meeting his mom's worried gaze, "I want you to slap me right across the face, all right? It's really annoying. How hard is it to just _say_ what the problem is? I mean, really."

"What's wrong?"

Blowing out a breath, he shook his head and shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Sheriff Stilinski wants to see me and Malia. Says he's got something for us to look at." Sighing, he pocketed his phone and turned for the stairs. "I'm gonna go get her. Oh, and hey." Pausing, he turned back and flashed her a small smile. "If I don't see you again before tonight, good luck on your date. Have fun."

"Thanks, honey. You too."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

When they pulled into the parking lot outside the police station, neither Scott nor Malia made a move to get out of her car. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he just had a really bad feeling that whatever the Sheriff wanted to show them was going to seriously mess up their day. And from the look on her face, it seemed like she had the same feeling.

"Well," he finally said, after several moments of inactivity. "Might as well get this over with. Maybe it really is nothing." He injected as much hope as he could into his words, but they still didn't sound even slightly sincere, even to his own ears.

"It's never nothing," she replied flatly. "If it was nothing, he wouldn't have called."

He knew she was right. But as he got out of the car, Scott sent up a silent prayer to anybody listening that she wasn't. Things had been so good lately, even with the mystery of the Cobb twins lurking in the background. He wasn't ready to give that up yet.

As they headed for the entrance, his phone went off yet again. When he saw it was the same unknown number from earlier, he let out a little growl as he sent it to voicemail and re-pocketed his phone with more force than was necessary. Spotting Malia's raised eyebrow, he shrugged sheepishly. "Somebody keeps calling, but I don't know the number. I wish they'd take the hint and stop trying."

"Maybe you should just answer it."

Before he could reply, the door swung open and Parrish stepped out. When he spotted the two of them approaching, he raised a hand in greeting and jerked his thumb back toward the door. "Hey, guys. The Sheriff's waiting in his office."

"Thanks, Parrish. Do you know what's up?"

The Hellhound shrugged. "Nope, sorry. Sheriff didn't say. Have a nice day, guys."

"Yeah, you too."

As he continued out into the parking lot, they headed inside the station. Nodding at one of the deputies he recognised, Scott stepped over to the Sheriff's closed office door and knocked gently on the glass. The blinds were open, and Stilinski immediately waved them in. He was on the phone, so they quietly took a seat across the desk from him and waited for him to finish up.

"Thanks for coming, Scott, Malia," he said, once he hung up and focused on them.

"No pr—"

"What happened?" Malia quickly interjected. "Why are we here?"

Pursing his lips, Stilinski leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Okay, straight to business. Last night, we got a call about a disturbance outside of a bar. A man and a woman fighting, verbally and then physically. Which is... not out of the norm at this particular establishment. Real classy place. I sent out a couple deputies, but by the time they got there, they'd both taken off. So they took some statements, interviewed a couple people, y'know, routine stuff."

"Okay," Scott said slowly. "What does have to do with us?"

Stilinski held up a hand and raised his eyebrows. "I'm getting there. So, the witness descriptions were a little vague. We got a dark-haired man, mid-to-late thirties, around average height and weight, and a blonde woman, early twenties, petite. But I had a hunch, so I had my people pass around the photo of the Cobb girl." Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms and tilted his head. "She was positively identified."

Scott's eyes widened then, and he leaned forward, looking him directly in the eye. "You found them?"

"No, not quite," the Sheriff quickly said. "Whoever the guy was, he didn't match the description of her brother. But, since the fight they had was apparently something to see, I had my deputies confiscate the phones from everybody there, hoping we'd get lucky. And sure enough, somebody filmed part of it. That's what I want you to look at."

"Why?" Malia asked, brow furrowed in confusion. "If you've got the guy on camera, why do you need us?"

Instead of replying, Stilinski instead opened up the laptop sitting on his desk. "The woman filming was behind the action, so we didn't get many shots of the guy's face. But he does put on quite the show. And I... I think I recognised him. But I'd like to see if you two see the same thing I did, all right?" Looking up, his eyes moved from one to the other, drawing nods from both. "Okay, here we go." Turning the laptop around, he slid it toward them. "Hit play."

As Malia started the video, Scott felt his phone start to vibrate again and bit back an annoyed growl. Yanking it out of his pocket, he found the same number had tried again, this time sending a text. Jaw clenched, he opened it, curious.

— _SCOTT ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE_

"What the hell?" he muttered, eyes flickering between the message and the computer screen, where a man in a long overcoat was walking toward a short, blonde woman. The video was a little shaky, but there was no doubt the woman in question was Ashley Cobb. Suddenly, his phone went off again, and this time, he let the call go through, slowly lifting it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"What's the point of having a damn phone if you aren't gonna answer it?"

His eyes shot open at the sound of the familiar voice. "Derek?"

None of them had heard from him in nearly a year. Braeden had assured them all he was doing fine, but she hadn't hung around after the Desert Wolf was dealt with, and that was months ago. Both Malia and the Sheriff turned toward him, both with looks of surprise on their faces. She opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly put a finger over his lips, then gestured back to the video, where despite the lack of sound, their body language made it blatantly obvious Ashley and the unknown man were screaming at each other.

"Yeah, Scott, it's me. Listen, I called to warn you. I got word from a couple contacts I've still got in Beacon Hills, and you may have a problem on your hands."

"Yeah, I know," he replied, as he watched the screen, where the two had moved from yelling at each other to physically fighting. They were moving too fast, too erratically for the camera to pick up much. He couldn't even tell if either of them had shifted. "We've got a couple new werewolves in town, and—"

"No, that's not it. Your problem is—"

"Peter."

It wasn't much, just a brief close-up of his face as a powerful shove from his opponent sent him stumbling back toward the camera, but it was unmistakable. His shifted face wasn't one that was easily forgotten, or mistaken for anybody else. Especially when the last time any of them had seen it, he'd been trying to kill Scott. Peter Hale was back in town, and for some reason, he was going after Ashley Cobb.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"I'm looking at him." Scott's voice was tense, and next to him, he could feel that same tension in Malia, in the sudden set of her shoulders, the way her hands curled into fists. Reaching out, he laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed softly in silent support, even as he grimaced at the scene playing out before them. "The Sheriff has him on camera, fighting with one of those new werewolves I mentioned."

"Damn it! I was hoping my sources were wrong." Derek let out a low growl, then sighed. "Listen, Scott, you need to be very careful. I've been tracking Peter since he broke out of Eichen House. He's been everywhere, all over the continent, looking for something."

Scott frowned. "What?"

"What is he always looking for? Power. An Alpha's power. If he's back in Beacon Hills, that probably means he's found it. And if he has, he'll be coming after you. You need to watch your back. I'm on my way."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _So, this one took a bit of a turn at the end there. Honestly, I didn't originally intend to include Peter or Derek. It's just bad story-telling to introduce major characters this late in the game. This was supposed to be the second last chapter, but then I decided I'm not quite done with this story yet, so I figured what the hell, might as well throw some more crap in there, see what shakes out. At this point, the plan seems to be changing several times a chapter for me, so I don't know. We'll see how it plays out. The main goal remains the same, to just have Scott and Malia have a good time. But all the stuff around it is a little less clear. Hope you enjoy it though. As always, let me know what you think._


	8. 08

**08**

The car was quiet as they left the police station, Malia lost in her thoughts, expression stormy, and Scott reluctant to intrude. Despite his own tangled history with Peter, the connection between them, the man was her father. Whatever he was feeling, he knew she had to be just as conflicted.

It hadn't been just him, he had to remind himself, who'd nearly killed his friends that day in the temple in Mexico. Kate turning him into a Berserker had only come about because of Peter's machinations, that was true, but that had been far from the only sin committed by the former Alpha that day. Their fight, the direct effort to end his life, that was just another chapter in the story that had started with a bite. He could get over that, because he knew what Peter was, and because he won, because in the end, it hadn't mattered and he'd triumphed, despite the odds.

But for Peter to try to manipulate his own daughter into killing, killing her friend, killing _him_ , that was beyond the pale. And she'd very nearly succeeded. Scott had never blamed Malia for that, and he never would. Now that he knew her better, he knew how that guilt would have sat with her, what it would have done to her, had she managed to stab him that day. That was something he could not, would not ever forgive Peter for.

"We should have known he wouldn't stay away," he muttered, foot tapping against the floor of the car with nervous energy. "He came back from the dead. We should have known he'd come back here again."

Derek hadn't been able to provide much information about his uncle's return to Beacon Hills, beyond the vague drive for power that always seemed to motivate the elder Hale. While he'd been tracking him for months, he hadn't actually spoken with him, or even seen him in person. It was all just speculation and rumours he'd heard second or third-hand from people all over the country. He'd admitted he'd lost the trail completely about a month ago, only finding out his target was back in the city when he got a call out of the blue from a local contact.

After a brief assurance that he'd be in town soon, Derek had hung up, leaving Scott, Malia, and the Sheriff to figure out their next move. They'd collectively decided to play it by ear, spread the word to all the people who needed to know, and hope something turned up. It was really their only play. They just didn't know enough about what was going on, why Peter was back, or why he was mixing it up with the Cobbs. The only thing they did know was he hadn't tried to kill any of the pack yet, or announced his presence, and all they could do was hope that when he did, it was with words and not a surprise attack in the dark. Or something worse.

"I talked to him."

Scott, who'd been looking out the window at the passing buildings as they made the drive back to his place, looked over at Malia and raised an eyebrow in question. "Who?"

She hesitated for a second, jaw clenched tight, a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. "Peter," she bit out, drawing a frown from him. "It was a couple days after... everything with my mother. He called me, wanted me to leave town with him." She paused, her eyes darting to him briefly, then back to the road. "I didn't tell you because... I don't know. He told me he was leaving, that he was done with Beacon Hills, done with _you_. I thought—I guess I thought it was easier for everybody if he was just gone. Nobody would feel the urge to chase him if they didn't have any... I don't know, _leads_ or whatever."

For a second, he just looked at her, at the apprehension, the reluctance to confess written all over her face. He couldn't blame her for keeping it to herself. After everything had gone down with her mother and the Beast, they'd all needed a break. School, their fractured personal lives, everything going on around them, it had been too much. When word about Peter's escape from Eichen House had reached them, he'd immediately pushed to find him before he could find a way to hurt them. But after a week of inactivity and not a whisper of the escaped wolf, they'd all agreed he must have left town and refocused on their own lives.

"It's okay," he said softly, reaching across the center console, trailing his fingers up her arm until she dropped her hand off the wheel and let him take it in his. "You were right. I would have... well, I probably would have driven us all crazy trying to track him down." Then he sighed and shook his head. "He could have just stayed away. But no, of course he couldn't. He's like one of those punching bags with sand in the bottom. You know what I'm talking about? No matter how hard you hit it, it just springs right back up. Just stay down, man."

Malia snorted at that, the first trace of humour he'd seen on her face since the revelation appearing in the form of a little uptick of the corner of her lips. "Bodes well for me, I guess," she said dryly. "Apparently I come from a real survivor."

"Silver-lining," he joked, squeezing her hand softly, his own mood improving just a bit seeing the positive change in hers.

They faded back into silence then, though neither released the hold they had on the other's hand. Pulling out his phone, Scott sent a text to Argent, telling him to drop by his house first chance he got, that they needed to talk. He knew the man had a personal connection with Peter too, after everything with his sister, and their own encounters, and he didn't want to let him know over the phone. And if he was a little vague on his wording and Argent thought maybe their conversation was going to be about something else, that wasn't his fault, was it?

"I'm gonna text Lydia and get her and Stiles to meet us for lunch," he said as he typed up a quick message to their friend. "We can fill them in, and they can pass the word along to everybody else. I'm sure they'll both just be..." He blew out a breath and shook his head as he slid his phone into his pocket. "Freaking overjoyed to hear Peter's back in town."

"We should have killed him!" Malia's sudden outburst had Scott turning toward her with wide eyes. She was still staring out the windshield, but he could see the intense look on her face, felt the way her hand tightened around his. "We should have just put him down while he was still unconscious. In Mexico. That would have been the end of this. And we wouldn't be dealing with his _shit_ now!" Turning her head, she met his gaze, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing. "I could have done it. I could have just..." She trailed off into a low growl as she turned back to the road. "And then we'd be safe. _You'd_ be safe."

That last bit came out as a whisper, but he heard it all the same, heard the fear in it, the fear for him, and had to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. "Hey." He squeezed her hand softly. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

Abruptly, she pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, ignoring the car behind them that blew past, horn blaring, and turned in her seat to face him. "Don't worry about—how can I not worry about you? Scott, he's tried to kill you more times than I can count. All that last year, working with the woman who _murdered_ most of his family and burned him alive, was to get to _you_. And I know you. You're gonna face him down again." She swallowed heavily, eyes staring into his. "I just—you need to be careful. If he hurts you, I'll..." Jaw clenched tight, her eyes flared blue and she let out a growl.

For a moment, he just looked at her, torn between aversion at her being so worried about him, and touched at the proof of how much she cared. Slowly, he leaned forward and lifted his hand, gently cupping the side of her face. "I'll be careful," he said, voice low, "and you should be too. We all should. He plays too many games to not watch your back around him. He's dangerous, there's no doubt about it. But you remember what you told me, the first time you met him?"

She was still for a second, eyes locked on his, barely breathing, before her lips started to twitch. "You can handle him better with me."

A smile spread across his face as he nodded, slowly stroking his thumb across her cheek. "And are you with me?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm not worried. I've got your back, you've got mine, and we'll deal with it. Okay?" He held her gaze until she nodded, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. As he settled back into his seat, and she pulled back onto the road, he let his head fall back against the seat and sighed. "I guess this does kind of throw a wrench into our plans though, huh? Probably shouldn't go out if we're waiting for Derek to show up."

She let out a little _hmm_ of agreement, her fingers drumming against the wheel. "Another night, I guess."

"Or," he said slowly, drawing out the word, not liking the disappointment he could hear in her voice despite her attempt to mask it. "I could make dinner, y'know, whatever you want. It's not going out, but I don't know, it could be... all right, right? My mom'll be gone, so it'll just be me and you, so, y'know, that'll be nice. And even if we get interrupted, it'll still be there when we get back." Looking over at her, he grinned and raised an eyebrow. "I'll admit I'm not the most romantic guy out there, but I think I could whip up something decent. What do you think?"

Malia turned her head toward him, a little smirk twisting her lips. "You're gonna make me dinner?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, I'm no chef here, so don't, y'know, get your hopes too up. But I can definitely make something edible. That's something, right?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding slowly. "That sounds— that sounds nice."

"All right. Romantic dinner for two it is." Pausing, he reached for her hand again, folding his fingers around it, watching as her smirk morphed into a little smile. "So we meet Stiles and Lydia for lunch, pass on the good news, hit up the supermarket, and see if I can cook us something nice without burning the house down. Should be fun."

"It's a date."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"They're already here."

As they pulled into the burger joint parking lot, Scott leaned forward, lifting a hand to point out the windshield at Stiles' jeep, sitting near the edge of the lot. Malia parked next to it, and just as they were getting out of the car, he felt his phone go off in his pocket.

"That's probably one of them now," he muttered as slid his phone out and unlocked it.

— _Where are you guys? We're waiting outside._

"Lydia?" she guessed, crossing her arms and looking at him over the top of her car.

"Yeah. She says they're waiting outside," he replied, shaking his head and grinning as he went through his messages.

Stiles had left six, the number of capitalised letters and question marks increasing with each subsequent text, since he'd sent Lydia the original request to meet for lunch. He'd ignored them all as they'd come in, busy back at his house with Malia, first filling in his mom, and then later Argent on the new situation. They'd spent the rest of the morning taking a crack at her math homework, which turned out to involve a lot of making out and very little actual math. Not that either of them were complaining.

After putting his phone away, he rounded the nose of the car, scratching absently at a little itch on the back of his neck. Malia held out her hand as soon as he stepped near her, and smiling, he took it in his own, feeling that same little jolt of happiness he did every time she reached for him.

Hand in hand, they headed around to the front of the restaurant, where there was a little area set up with picnic tables for people to eat outside. Lydia's red hair was immediately visible, and Scott angled toward her, leading the way through the crowd of people out enjoying the warm day. Seemingly sensing their approach, she abruptly turned as they drew close, lifting a hand in greeting, even as her eyes zeroed in on their joined hands.

"Hey, guys," she said as they circled around to the other side of her table and took a seat. "You know you can let go of each other from time to time and the world won't end, right?"

"We'll keep that in mind," he replied, arching an eyebrow and grinning at her as he very pointedly slid his hand over Malia's where it rested on the table. His action drew a snort of amusement and an exaggerated eye-roll from her, as Malia huffed out an amused breath and bumped her shoulder against his. "Where's Stiles?"

"Inside, getting lunch." Pausing, she grimaced. "Why did you pick this place again? I'm pretty sure I can smell the grease from out here."

Leaning back, he threw up his arms and shrugged. "Hey, don't look at me. I wanted to go to Burger King."

Her eyes moved over to Malia, who crossed her arms and shrugged. "What? This place is _good_. My dad brings me here all the time," she said defensively. When Lydia just raised a sceptical eyebrow, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Whatever. I'm gonna go order. What do you want, Scott?"

"Just get me whatever you're getting."

His eyes followed her as she got up and headed inside, until the door closed behind her. Then he looked back to Lydia, who was watching him with an expectant look on her face. "What?" he asked, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his neck.

Sighing, she shook her head. "I'm assuming we're not here for a double date. What's wrong, Scott? Did something happen?"

Before he could answer her, the door opened again, the movement catching his eyes, and the familiar form of his best friend appeared. He bit back a grin when Stiles started to wave, nearly dropping the bag of food he was carrying, then nearly face-planted as he tried to steady the bag with his other hand. Turning in her seat, Lydia watched her boyfriend stumble over his own feet and slowly shook her head, as Scott chuckled quietly behind her.

"Scott!" he cried when he finally reached the table and slid into the empty spot beside Lydia. "What's up, man? You took off so quick after practice last night."

Clearing his throat, Scott nodded. "Yeah, kinda... kinda had stuff to do." His eyes darted to Lydia, who just shrugged and rolled her eyes. "But, uh, heard you guys let everybody else know about the Cobb twins and all that. So thanks for that."

Stiles waved off his words as he started pulling out food and divvying it up between himself and his girlfriend. "No problem. Ah, come on, I said _no_ tomato," he muttered, shaking his head and frowning at the burger he'd just pulled apart. "How hard is it to _not_ put something on a burger? It's not even busy in there. I should go back in there and—"

"Stiles!" He fell silent and looked at Lydia, whose face was the picture of exasperation. "It's a slice of tomato. Just pull it off. It's not that hard."

"I know that! It's the principle of—"

"Peter's back."

It wasn't really the way Scott wanted to do it. Sitting there, watching his friends bicker back and forth was amusing in a slightly annoying sort of way. But for some reason, he was feeling a little on edge all of a sudden, and it just sort of slipped out. He almost grimaced at the way they both froze, the half-amused looks on their faces disappearing, chased away instantly by those two simple words, replaced by disbelief, worry, fear.

"What?" Lydia asked quietly, eyes wide as she met his gaze.

"Peter's back," he repeated, looking from her to Stiles, who'd gone rigid, jaw clenched tight as memories of his last encounter with the man flooded his mind. "He's back in Beacon Hills."

"What—how do you—you're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Your dad has him on video. And Derek called to warn me." That drew raised eyebrows from both listeners. "He's on his way back. Not sure when he'll get here, he just said 'soon', but it sounded like he was already on the move, so I'm thinking probably sometime today or tonight. But, yeah..." He trailed off and shrugged, unsure of what to say. Both of them had unpleasant history with the former Alpha, so he was sure a lot of that was flashing before their eyes right now.

Lydia was the first to recover her composure, clearing her throat and clasping her hands tightly together on the table. "Do we know why he's back?"

"No. Derek thinks he may have regained his Alpha status, but I don't know." Pursing his lips, he slowly shook his head. "I think if he had that power back, his first stop probably would have been wherever I was. Can't imagine he's super pleased with how things played out in Mexico."

Stiles let out a snort, absently reaching for a fry as he looked off into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes. "You think he would have learned his lesson by now. How many times can a guy get his ass kicked before he just gives up?"

"I don't know if giving up is something Peter is capable of when it comes to Scott." Lydia's voice was so low it was barely above a whisper as she met his gaze.

He could see the worry in her eyes as she looked at him, saw the same thing in Stiles' eyes when his gaze flickered over to his best friend. Like Malia, they were both fully aware of what drove Peter's actions, all that hatred, that resentment he harboured. And while he hadn't been lying when he'd told her he was ready for Peter, ready to handle whatever the man threw at him, he was more than a little concerned with how much damage his friends would have to take before things were settled once again.

"How's Malia taking it?" Lydia asked, drawing him from his thoughts.

"Pretty well," he said, after a moment's consideration. "She's worried about everybody. She's kicking herself a little for not doing something a bit more... permanent to him when she had the chance. But she's okay. She's ready to deal with him." He didn't bring up what she'd said about him contacting her after his escape from Eichen House. It was her story to tell, if she wanted to.

Malia reappeared then, as everybody took a moment to process the information. It was only after she set her and Scott's food down and reclaimed her seat that she looked around, saw the serious looks on all their faces, and frowned. "You told them?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, rolling his shoulders to try and get rid of a little itch at the base of his neck. "Can you two spread the word to Liam and the others at school? I was gonna text them, but this felt like the kind of news that should be delivered in person. None of them really know Peter like we do, and it's important they understand just how dangerous he is."

"What about you guys?" Stiles asked.

"We're gonna stop in and let Deaton know after we leave here. And then we, uh, we kinda have plans tonight."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Is this—I mean, I don't wanna seem... rude or anything, but is this really the time? We've got murderous werewolves and... _another_ murderous werewolf loose in the city, one holding a real deep grudge against you, and you guys wanna what? Have a date night?" He shook his head, ignoring the warning look Lydia was shooting him, and the glare Malia had levelled at him. "Shouldn't you two be out there, like, I don't know, _looking_ for him? Or them? Or whatever?"

"Why don't you shut up?" Malia snapped.

"Hey, I'm just saying maybe finding your crazy dad is more impo—"

"He's not my dad," she bit out, eyes flaring blue. "My _dad_ is Henry Tate."

In that moment, the tension in the air was so thick, Scott was pretty sure he could taste it. Slipping his hand under the table, he found her knee and squeezed softly, silent support as she continued to glare at Stiles, who was looking properly abashed under her expression and the combined scowls of his girlfriend and best friend.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said softly. "Malia, I'm sorry." He held her gaze until she nodded curtly, her eyes fading back to normal. Then he sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I just—shouldn't we _all_ be looking for him? Sorta... I don't know, trying to get him before he gets us."

Sighing, Scott reached up and scratched his neck as he shrugged. "We could try. But he's lived in Beacon Hills longer than any of us. He knows this town better than we probably ever will. If he doesn't want to be found, we won't find him. So why waste the time? We know he'll pop up eventually, because that's what rats do."

"I'm not putting my life on hold just because that asshole's back in town," Malia stated, dropping her hand down and finding Scott's where it rested on her leg. "We're gonna do what we want, and if he decides to come after us, we'll be ready." The threat in her voice was blatant.

For a second, nobody moved or said anything. Then Stiles slowly raised his hands in a placating gesture and inclined his head slightly in apology. "Okay, you're right. My bad. We'll just... wait for him to show up and kill us, I guess?"

"Maybe," Lydia murmured, almost to herself.

"What?"

"Maybe," she repeated, louder, her eyes finding Scott's. "Why hasn't he come after any of us yet? Why else come back here?" She paused, brow furrowing in confusion. "Wait. You said the Sheriff has video of him. Doing what?"

"Fighting with somebody outside a bar," Malia replied.

Stiles snorted as Lydia rolled her eyes. "Of course. Fighting with who?"

"Ashley Cobb."

For a second, silence reigned, both Stiles and Lydia gaping at them, until she said, "Wait. He was fighting with one of the people we're supposed to be after?" Scott nodded. " _Why_?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he said, shrugging as he unwrapped his burger and took a bite. "I asked Derek," he said a moment later, "and he wasn't sure. But like I said, he thinks Peter's an Alpha again. He doesn't understand why he hasn't already come after me. So I don't know. Maybe they have history or something."

"Or maybe Derek's only half-right," Stiles offered around a mouthful of fries. When the others all looked at him, confused, he sighed through his nose and quickly swallowed. "Look, we all agree Peter is looking to become an Alpha again. That makes sense. He's got the worst God complex I've ever heard of. So Derek's right about that. But there's no reason for him to come back to Beacon Hills without it, right? He wants that power to take you out, the walking, talking embodiment of all his many failures. And yet he hasn't. He's here, in town, but instead of attacking you, he's fighting with some random werewolf outside a bar. Unless he's not." He paused, lips pursed, and shrugged. "Maybe he has found it."

Lydia was the first to catch onto what he was saying. "Oh," she said, drawing out the word as her eyes widened.

Eyes narrowed, Scott looked from her to Stiles, confused. "What?"

"She's an Alpha." Malia's declaration had him turning toward her, finding her nodding, a considering expression on her face. "That makes sense. It would explain why he went after her, anyway."

"And why he hasn't come after you yet," Stiles added.

For a moment, he considered the theory. It did sort of add up, just in terms of Peter's actions. But Argent hadn't mentioned either of the Cobbs being Alphas. And they had no way of knowing without coming face to face with her, which was hard to do when none of them had any idea where she was, where either of them were. So as interesting as it was, in the end, it was only a theory.

"Maybe," he said, shrugging. "But we already couldn't find her. We can't find him. We can't find any of them. So, I don't know." He reached up the scratch his neck. "I guess I can ask Argent, but—"

"Hey, what's wrong with you, Scott?" Lydia cut him off, staring at him through narrowed eyes. At his confused look, she pointed at him. "You keep scratching your neck."

An unholy grin spread across Stiles' face. "You got fleas, buddy?"

"No, I—" Freezing, Scott abruptly straightened up, the reality of the situation suddenly dawning on him. Slowly, he turned in his seat, ignoring the curious looks of his friends, and carefully scanned his surroundings, slowly moving over the shadowed alleys between the buildings across the street. He'd been too distracted before, too focused on sharing the news to recognise that barely-noticeable tickle on the back of his neck for what it really was. Not an itch. A warning.

"Scott." He felt Malia's hand fall on his shoulder, but kept his gaze directed across the street. "What's wrong?"

"I think someone's watching us."

The others all followed his lead then, looking across the street, at all the hiding places somebody, anybody could be concealed in, spying on them from. There were just too many, and he couldn't see through walls or dumpsters.

"I don't see anybody," Malia said softly, squeezing his shoulders. "Scott, there's nobody there."

"Yeah..." he said slowly, as he turned back toward the table. The itch was gone, had barely been anything in the first place. "I don't know. Maybe I just... maybe my mind's playing tricks on me."

"That's Peter for you," Stiles muttered. "He gets in your head, man."

"Yeah." Looking back over his shoulder, Scott let his eyes roam up the street one last time, then shook himself lightly and refocused on his friends. "Yeah, that's probably it. Phew, all right, we should get going, catch Deaton while he's on lunch." Malia nodded and quickly stuffed the rest of her burger into her mouth, drawing an eye-roll from Lydia. "We're gonna keep our phones on today, and tonight, but don't call unless it's really important."

"Big plans?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking, clearly eager to get off the topic of Peter and whatever else might be lurking out there, ready to murder them.

"Just dinner," he said, shrugging as he got to his feet and crumpled all his garbage up into a ball.

"He's cooking," Malia informed them, before she looked at Stiles and arched an eyebrow. "How come you never cooked for me?"

"Because I didn't want to kill you." Scott grinned at that, as Stiles nodded, expression completely serious. "Really. I am the worst cook in the world. No exaggeration. I once set our stove on fire trying to boil water. Tell them, Scott."

"It's true."

"My dad wouldn't even let me in the kitchen by myself for a solid month after that. It was bad."

Lydia, disbelief written all over her face, nudged her boyfriend with an elbow. "What were you, like, eight or something?"

"Uh, no, not eight. Little older." He cleared his throat sheepishly as she continued to stare at him, until he finally broke, letting out a heavy sigh and throwing his arms up. "Fourteen, all right? I was fourteen. Go ahead, laugh it up. Scott did. He nearly triggered an asthma attack laughing his ass off at me. That's how bad my cooking is. He wasn't even in the house and I almost killed him."

"So, breakfast in bed isn't in my future, then?" Lydia asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, I can make cereal. How do you feel about cereal in bed?"

Shaking his head, Scott grinned and reached for Malia's hand. They both waved farewell, then made their escape as the pair continued to go back and forth, barely aware they were being left alone. He was happy to see their moods improved, glad to see them cheerful, playful again, but he had places to be, people to talk to, dinner to plan.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"Dinner is served," Scott declared, standing at the head of the table and looking down at his efforts with a satisfied smile on his face.

He may never be a professional chef, or even the head cook at some roadside diner, but with enough time and maximum effort, he could do a pretty good job. Everything looked good, smelled delicious, and nothing was burned. That was a win in his books. And from the approving comments he'd gotten from Malia as she periodically checked in on him while he'd been working, he was pretty sure she was completely on-board too. Which he counted as another win, because the whole thing was for her, after all.

The creaking of the floor drew his eyes to the doorway then, where she was standing, eyes scanning the table. He'd offered to teach her to cook when he started, to watch and learn, but she'd begged off, saying maybe some other time, and watching a movie in the living room instead. He hadn't pressed, figuring it was something they could try together somewhere down the line.

"Wow, that actually looks really good, Scott," she said, a mildly impressed look on her face as she looked up and met his gaze.

Grinning, he shook his head. "Don't sound so surprised."

"Sorry," she said, shrugging as her own lips mirrored his expression, "Just the way you were talking, I expected... less than this."

He let out a little amused _hmm_ and raised an eyebrow. "Low expectations, huh? That's probably not a bad idea with me. I am just _terrible_ at so much stuff."

When he shot her a wink, she let out a little laugh and shook her head, then stepped toward the table. "From what I've seen, you're pretty good at a lot of things too. Like that thing you do with your tongue when—"

He cleared his throat loudly, cutting her off as he turned off some lights, leaving the kitchen only dimly lit by the bulb over the stove. "Now," he continued, cheeks a little flushed, ignoring the impish grin she shot him as they sat down across from each other, "I would have gone with the whole candle-lit thing, but, uh, I think I've already tempted fate enough today when it comes to potential fire hazards. Plus the only candle I could find was this melted green mess in a jar that sort of smells like mint. Didn't, uh, just didn't really fit with the mood I was going for here, y'know? So... sorry?"

Malia snorted. "I think we'll be fine, Scott. This is..." She trailed off, tilting her head slightly as she picked up her fork, her eyes finding his over the table. "This is pretty much perfect," she said softly, drawing a smile from him. Then she raised an eyebrow. "You're sure it's edible, right? Like, you've tasted it?"

He couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head as she flashed him a teasing grin. They faded into silence after that as they both dug in, neither showing any reservations despite the joking.

It actually was pretty good, he decided after a few bites. Maybe the best he'd ever made, which admittedly wasn't all that much, but wasn't nothing either. Looking up, he focused on her face, saw the smile there, the contentedness, and felt a pleasant warmth surge through him. Proper motivation really could do wonders. If it meant seeing that look on her face, seeing it directed at him, he'd cook for her every night. Or do whatever else she wanted.

As far as dinner dates, it turned out to be one of the quietest he'd ever had. He spent most of it watching her, enjoying her presence, her quirks, the way the corners of her mouth would tick up ever so slightly each time their eyes met. It was just very comfortable, easy, words completely unnecessary, and he really liked it.

He wasn't sure if it was because they'd started as friends first or something else, but their relationship felt different from his others. In the past, with Allison, with Kira, there'd been a need there, a drive to fill any silence with something, anything. He knew a part of that was just him growing up, maturing, but a part of it was undeniably her. With Malia, it all just seemed like so much noise, useless, unneeded. There was no awkward silence, just comfortable quiet. Everything that needed to be said was done with looks, with gestures, with body language clear as crystal to both of them. And he thought that spoke volumes about what they were, where they were going, what was happening between them.

When the food was gone, and it was just them, looking at each other, Scott told her, poured his thoughts, his observations out to her. It seemed incredibly important, essential, that she know, that she understand just how much he liked being with her, how wonderfully simple it was for him. And as he said the words, stumbling a little, halting but never awkward, she slid her hand across the table, palm up, and he immediately reached for her.

"I just—I'm not trying to freak you out or anything," he said quietly, tracing his thumb over her knuckles as she continued to look into his eyes, silent. "I know this is new and that it's way too early for any grand declarations or anything. I _know_ that. But being with you is the easiest thing in the world for me, the best part of my day, of my life. And I'm just, y'know..." He trailed off and shook his head. "You make me feel so... I don't know how to describe it, exactly. But you make me _feel_ , and I—I want you to know it, y'know? I don't ever want you to doubt or question what this means to me. What you mean to me."

"Hey," she said softly, as he tried inject as much earnestness into his expression as he could, tried to convey just how serious he was. "It's okay, Scott. You know I'm not... _open_ like you are. But I appreciate being told how much I matter as much as the next person. I'm serious. I can't get enough of it." She grinned and gestured between them. "If you ever have something to say to me, _say it_. That's way better than saying nothing. Way better."

"Yeah, you say that now..." He trailed off, lips twisting into a wry smile, his own heart beat pounding like a drum in his ears. "Listen, when I fall, it's hard and it's fast and there's not a lot of over-thinking or analysing on my part. I'm just all-in right away, and whatever happens happens. And I'm not saying that's where we are, but, y'know, I'm pretty sure that's where we're headed. And I know that can be a little... _intimidating_ or off-putting or whatever when you're not wired like me but—"

She cut him off with a squeeze of his hand as a wide smile spread across her face. "I know. And it's fine. Better than fine. I know we weren't exactly thinking long-term when all this got started, but I know you, Scott. I know who you are, and I knew what I was signing up for. We're together, with everything that goes with that, so don't worry. Tell me how you're feeling, even if you think I'm not ready for it. Because..." Pausing, she took a deep breath, gaze locked on his. "I might be readier than you think."

For a second, he just stared at her, frozen, looking into her eyes, seeing the sincerity there, the affection for him, and something else, something that made his heart skip a beat. "Yeah?"

She nodded decisively. "Yeah. I'm in this with you, all the way. You're not gonna scare me off, Scott. Not a chance."

"Well, that's good," he finally said after taking a moment to gather himself, voice thick with emotion, "because I'm probably gonna say a bunch of sappy stuff, definitely while we're alone, possibly in front of our friends, and almost certainly at the most embarrassing times." She let out an amused breath at that, as he shook his head and chuckled. "As long as you're prepared for that..."

"I am," she said, before she arched an eyebrow. "I'm in, Scott. All-in, no looking back. And now that we've got that settled, should we clean this up, or can we go make out on the couch?"

Grinning, he laughed as he rose to his feet, mirroring her motions, and tugged her toward him, around the side of the table. "Not really much of a choice to make there," he murmured against her lips before he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him. "No contest."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _I'm a little concerned this chapter might have been super boring, especially given the reveal from the last chapter. The middle section went way longer than I intended, and because of that, I pushed what was supposed to be the end scene, which also ran really long, to the next chapter instead. I'm hoping having Scott confess just how far gone he is sort of off-sets the lack of development in the Peter/Cobb storyline. Honestly, I'm kind of on unsteady ground here. I haven't written a whole lot of romance stuff before, or at least not as romance-heavy as I'm trying to do with this, so I'm having trouble finding the balance between the different elements. I mean, if you're reading this for that, I imagine you like it. But if you're just hanging on because I promised some action eventually (next chapter, for sure, because it's already written), this one was probably just filler for you. So, I don't know. I hope you all like it. Let me know either way. And if you have any questions about the story, or how I write, feel free to ask, either in a review or PM. I'm off work for the next two weeks, and I love talking about this shit, so don't be shy. I don't bite._


	9. 09

**09**

Looking up at his ceiling, Scott took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled as he slid one hand under the back of his head. A second later, an arm was thrown over his bare chest as Malia rolled over and looked at him. "Did I tire you out?" she teased, a little smirk on her face, hair tousled and eyes bright.

"A little," he admitted, a lazy grin forming on his own face as he looked into her eyes. "But I think I've proven by now just how quickly I can recover."

"Yeah, you never disappoint." Stretching up, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then sank back down against him, her head pillowed on his free arm.

They lied there in silence for several moments, content to just bask in the afterglow, in the warmth of each other. Absently, he rubbed little circles on her shoulder with his thumb, a small smile on his face as he relived their evening in his mind, from their post-dinner exchange, to the fun that followed, first on the couch, and then in his room.

Scott didn't generally keep a record of his favourite evenings, his best nights, but even so, he was pretty sure this one would be at the top of the list. Everything going on around them, the mysterious threat of the Cobb twins, Peter sneaking around, none of that had mattered. It had just been him and her, alone together, lost in each other, in what they felt, in what they were feeling. Even now, just lying there, holding each other, the problems seemed distant, just trivial darkness, lurking on the periphery. It was hard to be worried or anxious with her dominating his senses, her skin pressed against his, her scent filling his nose, her taste on his tongue.

He was drawn out of his thoughts then as Malia suddenly slid closer and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. He shivered as she slowly kissed her way up to his ear, then whispered, "I'm thirsty."

Letting out a snort of amusement, he shook his head. "And I suppose you want me to do something about that, huh?"

"Would be nice," she murmured.

"All right," he said, after breathing out a mock sigh of annoyance. "But only because I'm thirsty too." Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead and slid out of bed. She immediately moved over, claiming the spot he'd vacated, warm from his body, and curled up under the blankets. "You know I'm taking my spot back when I get back, right?" he informed her, grinning as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

"Good luck with that," was her muffled reply.

It was still early, just a little after ten, so the house was quiet, dark, empty as he made his way downstairs. His mom hadn't mentioned when she'd be back, or if she'd back at all—something he was studiously avoiding thinking about. Padding into the kitchen, he scratched absently at the back of his neck as he opened the fridge, blinking a little at the sudden light, and peered inside. Options were a little limited, and after a second's consideration, he grabbed two water bottles and straightened up, closing the door.

As he turned away from the fridge, Scott suddenly froze, breath catching in his throat. He'd been too relaxed to recognise it at first, but that tingle was back, that itch on his neck, his instincts telling him somebody or something was watching him. Slowly, he scanned the room, eyes pausing on each window before moving on. Most of them were covered by curtains, showing nothing, and the ones that weren't appeared empty, no faces looking back through the glass at him. But still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being observed.

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head and concentrated on his hearing, extending that sense as far as he could, listening for a heartbeat, breathing, anything. He could hear his own heart, beating a little faster than usual, and upstairs Malia's, slow and steady. But that was it.

A sudden creaking on the back step had his eyes flaring open, and he immediately turned and bee-lined for the back door. Yanking it open, he stepped out onto the porch, flicking out his claws along the way. It was nearly pitch black outside, the moon hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, leaving everything nearly invisible, just vague outlines in the dark. Glowing his eyes, he looked out over the lawn, seeing nothing that shouldn't be there, but still unable to shake the prickly sensation creeping down his spine. Leaning forward, he braced himself on the railing, claws digging into the wood, and let out a long, low warning growl to whatever was out there.

"Scott."

The sound of his name coming from behind him nearly had him jumping out of his own skin. Eyes wide, he whirled around, hands coming up in a defensive position. When he found Malia standing in the doorway, wearing one of his hoodies and a concerned look, he immediately relaxed, dropping his hands and letting out a shaky breath.

"Sorry." He flashed her a sheepish grin as she stepped toward him and held out a hand. Grasping it, he pulled her close. "I didn't hear you come downstairs."

"I heard you come outside." With gentle pressure, she turned him back away from the house, toward the railing, settling in against his side. He shot her a grateful look when she slid an arm around his back, giving back a little of the warmth standing outside at night, shirtless, in January had stolen from him. Eyes flaring blue, she directed her gaze out over the lawn before them. "Did you see something out here?"

For a second, he was quiet, scanning the empty yard. "No, I—I don't know. I felt like something was watching me again, like at lunch. And then I thought I heard... something, somebody on the step, maybe. But there's nothing here. No scent. No trace. And I can't feel... whatever it was anymore. I..." Trailing off, he let out a heavy sigh, then shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe my mind really is playing tricks on me."

"No." Her tone was sharp, resolute. "You've got great instincts, Scott. If you felt like somebody was spying on you, then they were."

Despite his preoccupation, he felt a little smile tug at his lips at her steadfast support. "Okay," he said softly, slipped his own arm around waist and pulling her tight against his side. "But you didn't feel anything, right? At lunch or now?"

She huffed out a little amused breath, giving him a little squeeze. "I was a little distracted tonight. And I'm not you. You've always been better at sensing stuff than me." Turning her head, she pursed her lips as she met his gaze, and offered, "Maybe it's an Alpha thing."

"Yeah, maybe."

For another moment, they both stood there, looking out into the dark, but when it remained stubbornly peaceful, Malia finally let out a little sigh and began to pull him toward the door. He resisted for a second, frowning heavily, but then gave in and let himself be led back inside, pausing only to kick the door closed behind him.

"We'll just have to keep our eyes open," she said, as he followed her through into the living room and sank down next to her on the couch. "Whoever's watching us, watching _you_ , clearly isn't afraid. I mean, first in broad daylight, and now your house... doesn't seem like they're worried about being spotted."

"Or they're just very confident in their ability to not get caught," he muttered, rubbing at his temples. "And who does that sound like?"

Silence reigned then, as Scott considered the possibilities. It would almost be a relief to find out it was Peter, as strange as that may have sounded. He already knew exactly what the former Alpha wanted. And while he was in no hurry to fight the man again, he also wasn't going to shy away from a confrontation. He wasn't the same kid he'd been the first time they'd tangled, or even the same person he was during their last violent encounter. Peter was a known quantity. But if it wasn't him, that raised other questions. Was it one of the Cobbs? Or somebody else entirely, with motivations he had no idea about, a complete unknown? Either way, he really didn't need or want any of that at the moment.

Further contemplation was interrupted then when a low buzz suddenly filled the air. Frowning, he looked down at the cushion next to him, then slowly slid his hand into the gap between it and the one he was sitting on, coming out with a phone.

"That's mine," Malia said, snatching it out of his hand. "Must have slipped out earlier." She checked it, then frowned. "Unknown number."

"Maybe it's Derek." He reached for his own phone, belatedly realising it was still upstairs, in the pocket of his discarded jeans. "Might as well answer it."

Shrugging, she let the call go through. "Hello?"

"Malia."

Sitting as close to her as he was, Scott might as well have been holding the phone to his own ear. So when he heard the familiar voice coming across the line, he bit back the reflexive snarl that tried to burst free and instead turned to look at her, seeing the same surprise and anger he was feeling mirrored on her face.

"Peter," she bit out, her eyes glowing blue as the grip she had on the phone tightened.

"I know you're not happy to hear from me, but—" His voice cut out suddenly, and they exchanged looks of confusion. There was something strange in his tone, some kind of strain, like he was having trouble speaking. There was a second of silence before he came back on the line, his voice much lower. "I need your help. I'm at Derek's loft and I'm hurt. I need you to come pick me up. I'll explain everything as soon as you get here, I swear."

There was definitely something wrong with him. Scott could hear the pain in his voice, the effort it was taking him to form the words. But this was Peter. It was hard to remember a time when he wasn't working some scam or playing some game. The odds that this was legitimate weren't in his favour.

"Why would I do that?" Malia asked, disbelief colouring her tone. "You're a liar, Peter, and a killer. Why would I ever do anything to help you?"

"Because I'm your father!" he shot back, a trace of his usual arrogance rearing its ugly head.

"No, you're just the guy who knocked up my mother. You're also the guy who keeps trying to kill my friends. What does that really make us?"

Again, silence descended, but this time when it ended, Scott could hear the effort Peter was exerting to rein in his usual standoffishness. "Listen, I know our relationship is... complicated," he said, voice tight, restrained. "But I need help and you're the only one who'd even _consider_ it. I'm in trouble, Malia, and I need _you_." Something banged loudly in the background. "Derek's loft. Wait for me outside. Please." The last word came out as barely more than a whisper, before the call abruptly cut off, leaving them both sitting there, staring at the phone.

"It's a trap," she stated flatly, after a moment. "It's some stupid game he's playing to try and get to you. It has to be."

His first inclination was to agree with her. It certainly fit the elder Hale's character. He'd faked being weak for the better part of a year after clawing his way back from the dead, waiting for the right moment to strike. Playing injured and scared now seemed to be right in his wheelhouse. But for some reason, maybe the very real desperation in his voice, or just some gut-level instinct, Scott hesitated.

"Maybe," he said softly. "Probably, actually. But I don't know. What if it's not?"

That was the million dollar question, and it had to be asked. What if it wasn't a trick? What if Peter really did need help? What if he was honestly, sincerely reaching out to her? As much anger, rage, or whatever Malia had in her for the man, there was a connection there, however small and strained it might be. And he could see the indecision on her face, in the way her jaw clenched, her fingers tapping quickly on her leg as she looked into his eyes.

"It's up to you," she finally said, after letting out a heavy breath. "If you want, we can go check things out. Or we can stay here and let him figure his own crap out. Your choice."

"Malia..."

"No." She held up her hand, cutting him off. "After everything he's done, I've got no reason to go to him. You're the Alpha, Scott. You make the call, and I'll live with it. I don't care about him, but I'll follow you."

For a second, he just looked at her, torn between appreciation at her words, and resentment at being the one who had to make the choice. But the latter quickly faded. She was right. He was the leader, for better or worse. And even with his history with Peter, they both knew he was the only one of the two of them who would, who could decide to help him. She'd already made up her mind. It wasn't a choice for her. Which only left him.

Hanging his head, he let out a heavy sigh, then reached for her hand. Rising to his feet, he pulled her up with him, meeting her eyes as he jerked his head up toward his bedroom. "Let's get dressed. We'll check it out. And if it _is_ a trap..." He trailed off as she led him toward the stairs.

"He'll regret it."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"No lights," Malia noted as they got out of her car.

Standing at the base of the building, Scott nodded, head tilted back, eyes locked on the arched windows of Derek's loft. There were no lights, no signs of life, nothing to indicate Peter was there. There were no signs of life anywhere, for that matter. The whole building looked dark, deserted, much like it had ever since Derek left Beacon Hills.

"Should we go in? He said to wait outside," he said, gesturing toward the door.

"Screw that," she replied. "I didn't come here to stand around and wait for him to get his shit together. Let's go."

As they made their way toward the entrance, he kept his head on a swivel, body tense, his senses working over time. Whether Peter was the real threat, or something else, he was in no hurry to get caught off-guard. Next to him, he could feel the same tension in Malia, in her slightly-accelerated heartbeat, and the way she twitched at every little noise. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but there was something in the air, a vibe, and he wasn't the only one who could feel it.

Suddenly, he felt her fingers close around his wrist, dragging him to a halt just before they reached the door. "You smell that?" she whispered when he turned to look.

Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath through his nose, searching for whatever she'd picked up. It took him a second, but eventually he found it. It wasn't strong, barely there at all, but buried under the usual smells of a city at night, there it was, just a trace lingering around them. Blood. Fresh blood. Not enough to tell who it came from, but unmistakably human. Or human-like.

"Yeah," he said grimly, scanning the area around them through narrowed eyes. "Come on."

A new urgency drove their steps as they headed inside. There was still no way of knowing if Peter was messing with them or not, but either way, somebody had bled for it.

When they reached the elevator, Scott stopped short, dragging Malia to a stop alongside him. The doors were wide open, the dim light inside flickering eerily, illuminating deep gashes slashed into the back wall. Slowly, he stepped closer, cautiously peering inside, finding similar markings on the other walls, the bank of buttons next to the door destroyed almost beyond recognition. It looked like somebody had let a wild animal loose inside the thing, with predictable results.

"Guess we're taking the stairs," Malia muttered as she stepped up beside him. He hummed an acknowledgement, only half-listening, and reached out to run a finger down one of the slash marks. "Definitely a werewolf, right?"

"Yeah. One of the Cobbs. I can smell them. I think probably the brother, Bryan. Look how big the claws are. Ashley didn't look all that big." Frowning, he looked around the destroyed elevator and shook his head. "Whatever this is, a lack of control doesn't even begin to cover it. Liam was never like this, not even close. And if Peter wasn't lying, and whoever did this got their claws into him too, we might be in trouble. Look at this." He slid his finger into one of the deeper gashes in the back wall and looked at her. "It goes right through into the wall behind. This elevator is _steel_. And the wall is _concrete_. That's, uh, a little disturbing."

For a second, she just looked back at him, before she cleared her throat and took a step back. "Maybe we shouldn't be standing right here. It's kind of a dead end."

"Good call."

Quickly, he followed her back out into the hallways outside the elevator, and toward the stairs. Normally, he'd be dreading climbing so many steps, wouldn't even want to think about just how many there were. But it wasn't even a thought now, both of them almost jogging up them, adrenaline fuelling their legs, eager to find out just what was going on, worried about what else might be lurking somewhere nearby.

He tried to keep his ears open as they ascended the steps, but it was hard. He could hear his own heart beating like a drum in his chest, drowning out most other sound, and just ahead of him, Malia's was no better. Add to that the usual creaks and groans of such a big, old building and his enhanced hearing was all but useless. Any attacker would have to be right in front of them before he'd hear it, unless it came roaring and growling. Which it very well could, but he wasn't holding his breath.

"How does this place only have one elevator?" Malia gasped out around what felt like minute six hundred of their climb.

"Save your breath," he advised, even though he was wondering the same thing.

Eventually, miraculously, they reached the top floor of the building, and found themselves facing the door to Derek's long-vacant loft. Scott took a second, as he was catching his breath, to look around, scanning for any claw marks or any other signs. Other than a little dark spot on the floor right in front of the door, there was nothing, and once Malia gave him a curt nod, he started forward, her on his heels.

Kneeling next to the spot, he cautiously extended a finger and swiped across it. "Blood," he murmured, taking an experimental sniff. "I think it's Peter's."

"You think?" She leaned over his shoulder for a closer examination. "I can't smell him."

"He's hiding his scent."

"I didn't know he could do that."

Nodding, he straightened up, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I didn't either. But it's not like he's ever really been the most open about what he can and can't do, is it?"

"Good point."

Taking a deep breath, Scott squared his shoulders and stepped toward the door. Whatever was going on, some kind of answer lied on the other side. Pausing before it, he looked over his shoulder. "Ready?" She nodded, eyes glowing vivid blue, and he turned back to the door, reaching for the handle.

Before he could touch it, the door suddenly slid open, and a voice hissed, "Hurry up and get in here!" A hand shot out before he could react, fisted in the front of his shirt, and yanked him into the loft, catching him off-guard and sending him sprawling to the dusty floor.

Jumping back to his feet, he turned just in time to watch as Malia came through the door behind him, face contorted with rage as she drove her claws into Peter's shoulders and forced him back against the nearest wall. He let out a hiss of pain, a sound that was lost when a guttural growl ripped from her throat. From where he was standing, Scott could see her facial features shifting, growing more bestial as she glared into her father's eyes. He recognised a loss of control spurred on by emotion, had seen it before, had felt it himself more than once, and immediately tensed, worried he was about to watch her rip the former Alpha apart.

For his part, Peter seemed to recognise the danger he was in, going completely still and shrinking away as far as the wall at his back would let him. Over her shoulder, he caught Scott's eye, a pleading look on his face as she continued to growl threateningly.

"Malia." He kept his voice low, calm as he slowly approached her, going at an angle to avoid coming at her directly from behind. "It's okay. You're okay. Everybody's okay." She didn't react to his words, but when he cautiously reached out, fingers ghosting over her shoulder, she let out a snarl. He didn't flinch away, instead grasping her shoulder firmly. "It's okay," he repeated, feeling her whole body trembling with what he assumed was rage. "I'm okay."

Whether it was the repeated soft words, or the physical contact, he wasn't sure, but after a few long seconds, the growls trailed off. He felt her whole body shudder violently, like she was shaking water off, and suddenly Malia was back, the animal part of her hidden beneath the skin once again. With a grunt, she yanked her claws free and whirled around, as Peter slumped to the floor, breathing heavily.

Scott took a moment to check on her, grasping both shoulders, and trying to look at her face. "I'm good, I'm okay," she rasped, head down, but he refused to pull away until she looked up and met his gaze. He could still see the anger, the pent-up rage burning in her eyes, but behind that, it was her. Grimacing, she reached up and slid her hand over his, squeezing softly, and he flashed her a small, relieved smile before he released her and turned his attention to Peter, who was watching them with a scowl on his face.

"I was hoping I'd never see _you_ again," the elder Hale said, distaste dripping from every word as he glared at Scott through narrowed eyes.

Whirling around, Malia let out another growl. "Don't talk to him like that!"

Peter flinched back at the sudden outburst, as Scott reached for her arm, folding his fingers around her wrist and squeezing gently. "It's Peter," he murmured softly. "He can't help but be a dick." Focused on each other, they both missed the way his eyes darted between them, a speculative look forming on his face. "Are you okay?"

For a second, she remained frozen, trembling slightly, before she slowly nodded. "Yeah." The guttural undertone had dropped out of her voice, restoring it back to normal, and he took that as a good sign, and a cue it was safe to move on.

"Peter, what the hell is going on?"

Rather than a reply, what he got was a disgusted scowl from the man and a, "Really?" At his confused look, Peter let out a heavy sigh. "You two? The bane of my existence and my daughter, all cuddled up together. Just what I always wanted. You know, I'm starting to think karma might actually be real after all..." Trailing off, he pursed his lips and slowly shook his head.

"Oh, Jesus," Malia said, a look of disgust flashing across her face. "That's what you want to talk about right now?" Lifting a hand, she waved it in his direction. "I think you might have some more pressing things to worry about than my love life, you asshole. You're bleeding to death."

Now that the excitement had passed, Scott could see she was right. While the holes she'd punched in his shoulders weren't doing him any favours, they were far from Peter's only injuries. He was bleeding from at least a dozen different places all over his torso, including a deep, ugly slash in his stomach clearly visible through the massive rip in the front of his shirt. The scent of blood dominated the entire loft, continuously trickling from the former Alpha's shredded flesh. He was almost impressed the man had found the strength to stand up and drag him into the room with the way he was leaking everywhere.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "It's just a scratch."

"It's more than a scratch." Stepping forward, Scott held out a hand, intending to pull the man to his feet. Rather than accept it, Peter glared at the offered limb for a second, then began to worm his way up the wall, grunting in pain as he slowly levered himself back into a standing position. Dropping his hand, he huffed out an amused breath and stepped back. "All right then. Malia, can you get him over to the couch?"

The look she shot him told him going anywhere near her father was the last thing she wanted to do, but she didn't argue as she stepped toward him and reluctantly extended a hand. This time, the offer of aid was immediately accepted, as he lifted an arm and settled it around her shoulders, letting her take some of his weight on herself. Scott rolled his eyes as he followed the two of them across the loft, over to the dusty couch, where she dumped her cargo roughly, leaving him to straighten himself up as she stepped away.

Once he was situated, Peter cleared his throat, his eyes finding Malia's, ignoring Scott completely. "Thanks for coming. I was a little worried you wouldn't."

"Thank Scott," she replied, voice hard, as she crossed her arms. "He made the call. I wanted to leave you to die."

His eyes briefly flitted to Scott, something almost like a pout forming on his face. "I'm not thanking _him_."

Shaking his head, Scott sighed wearily and rubbed at his temples. "Come on, Peter. What does it feel like to be a petty child trapped in the body of a grown man?"

"I don't know. What does it feel like to be an idiot trapped in the body of an Alpha?"

"I don't think he really needs to tell you how that feels, does he?" Malia asked, arching an eyebrow in challenge. Scott bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning at the affronted look he shot her, an effort that got even more difficult when instead of say anything, he then averted his eyes and let out a little dismissive sniff. "Why are we here, Peter? What happened to you?"

"I was in a fight." His voice was tight as he continued to avoid looking at them. "I lost."

"With one of the Cobbs?" Scott prompted, taking a second to take a closer look at the ragged wounds the former Alpha had suffered. He certainly looked to be in bad shape, but with Peter, it was next to impossible to tell just how much of it was real and how much was a show.

"Yes." If he was surprised to hear the name, he didn't show it.

"Ashley?"

"No." His eyes narrowed then, finally locking onto Scott's. "This wasn't the work of some Beta. Look at this. Look!" Reaching down, grimacing in pain, he yanked up his shirt, fully baring the gaping tear in his stomach. "These wounds come from an Alpha's claws. Which you'd know if you were a real Alpha."

"He was Alpha enough to kick your ass," Malia pointed out, grim amusement colouring her tone, earning a grin from Scott as her father shot her a glare.

Giving his head a shake, Scott refocused on Peter, a questioning look on his face. "Bryan's an Alpha?" That drew a nod. "Okay. So is that why you went after Ashley last night? To get to her brother?"

Peter froze. "How do you know about that?"

"Somebody filmed it, dumbass." Malia smirked. "Sheriff Stilinski showed us the video this morning. For just some Beta, she took it to you pretty good."

"Oh, great." He let out a groan and buried his face in his hands. "Just one more humiliation for everyone to see. I should have just stayed dead."

"Or in Eichen House," Scott offered.

"Really anywhere but here," Malia added, amusement flaring in her eyes as she looked at him and grinned.

"That works for me."

Peter groaned again, the most pathetic sound either of them had ever heard come from the man. "All right, I get it. You both hate me. Ha ha, very funny, everybody takes a shot, we move on. Now, back to business. Yes, I went after the sister to get to the brother. And yes, I may have underestimated her. _Slightly_. But I got her scent, and I followed her back to their little hiding place. I wasn't in any condition to take on two werewolves, especially with one being an Alpha, so once I found them, I headed home to recover. I went back tonight and—"

"You went to kill Bryan," Scott interjected, eyes locking onto Peter's. "Just to be clear. You went to murder him so you could steal his power and became an Alpha again. Right?"

The hesitation before the answer came was so minute, Scott almost missed it. It was so brief, he may have chalked it up to his own imagination, if not for the way the man's eyes flickered to Malia before he spoke. But he did caught it, and immediately filed that information away for later.

"Of course that's why! An Alpha's power! That's all I want, all I've ever wanted." Arrogant Peter was back in full force as he glared at them, all bluster and bravado despite his injuries. "All I have to do is slit that monster's throat, and I reclaim my rightful place as the Alpha of Beacon Hills." Lifting his hands, he held them both palm up and curled them into tight fists. "And I had that within my grasp tonight. So close, _so close_..." His fists slowly unclenched, and his voice grew frustrated. "So far."

"What happened?" Scott asked softly, curious in spite of his disgust for the man sitting before him.

"What do you think happened? I miscalculated. I assumed the boy would be confused, weak. He has no control, and he's been an Alpha for less than a month. I _thought_ I'd be facing a lost child. What I ended up with was a raging beast. He's strong, stronger than me. Stronger than you." He shook his head, jaw clenched tight with remembered anger, pain. "There's no intelligence there, no strategy. Just raw power and rage. It's like fighting a tank. I barely got out of there alive, as you can see. It took all my strength to get back here and hide myself away. He was still prowling around downstairs when I called you."

Pursing his lips, Scott turned to Malia. "Explains the elevator."

"Yeah, I—"

"Uh, what about the elevator?" Peter interjected, sudden worry creasing his brow.

"It's trashed," she informed him. "He tore it to shreds. Derek's gonna have to pull the whole thing out and replace it."

"But, then, how did you two get up here?" The confusion on his face probably would have been comical if the dawning fear in his voice didn't have the hair on the back of Scott's neck standing up. "Don't tell me you took the stairs."

Scott exchanged looked with Malia, then shrugged. "Uh, yeah."

"Oh, no." With a grunt of effort, Peter heaved himself up off the couch, stumbling slightly, but steadying himself before either of them could grab him. "You idiots! I came here because this building's so huge, there was no way he could find me if I put some space between us. You can barely hear yourself think in here, it creaks and groans so much. I took the elevator up, and he's too far gone to know how they work. But not too far gone to follow a _fucking_ scent trail!"

Almost on cue, a low-pitched growl rang out, drawing three sets of wide eyes to the loft's closed door. Heavy footsteps slowly began to trace along the floor directly outside the door, accompanied by a rolling series of growls, like not-so-distant thunder.

"Great," Peter muttered. "Well, I really hope you two have picked up a new trick or two since we last fought. Or we're all going to die here tonight."

There was no opportunity to respond. With no warning, the door suddenly exploded inward, slivers of wood showering the three as something massive came charging through it like a bull. Scott had just enough time to shift, claws coming up, before Bryan was on him, monstrous fangs bared, barely-human face twisted with animalistic rage.

Ducking under flashing claws, he tried to draw the wolf to his left, opening him up for Malia to attack him from behind. But instead of turning like he'd expected, Bryan instead continued forward, bypassing them both completely in favour of pursuing Peter, who scrambled out of the way at the last second. Roaring in rage, the out of control shifter sank his claws into the couch and flipped it against the nearest wall, sending brick and plaster dust raining down around him as he turned back around.

Shoulder to shoulder, Scott and Malia both took a couple steps back, trying to put some distance between him and them. "What do you think?" he whispered, not taking his eyes of the hulking wolf.

"I think we've fought bigger."

He snorted. "Yeah, and that went so well for me. I got my ass kicked all over the school. It took you _and_ Braeden showing up to save me, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I'm already here this time." Clearing her throat, she nodded decisively. "We can take him." She sounded way more confident than he felt, though that didn't really surprise him. "You go left, I go right?"

He huffed out a little breath. "Why not? On three?"

"One, two, three!"

At her shout, they both darted forward, her slightly ahead of him. Splitting apart, they circled to either side of their target, then converged on him at the same time, fangs bared, claws up. For a second, the combined attack seemed to work, driving him back against the wall, as they slashed at his arms, looking to open up a more vulnerable zone to go after. But before either could press their advantage very far, he let out a rage-filled roar and swung an arm, catching Scott flush in the chest and propelling through the air, until he crashed to the ground in a heap near the far wall.

Springing back to his feet, he bared his fangs and growled, then jumped back into the fray. Malia was dancing around, avoiding powerful but sloppily thrown blows, but he could smell her blood, could see it trickling from a small gash above her right eye as he lunged past her and re-engaged.

Together, they worked to take their opponent down, only to be repelled time and time again. There just wasn't enough room in the loft to circle around behind him, and from the front, he was just too big for either of them to get in and land a solid blow. Scott could feel the frustration building inside every time he was pushed back, covered in dust and blood, stinging sweat dripping in his eyes. Beside him, he could hear Malia's angry growls getting louder as her own frustration grew.

"We need a plan!" she shouted, side-stepping a punch and raking her claws across Bryan's chest.

Gritting his teeth, Scott scanned the room, looking for something, anything to give them an advantage. When his eyes landed on the massive, arched windows across the room, a thought popped into his head, and he didn't hesitate to act on it.

Snarling, he darted forward, ducking under Bryan's arm, planting a shoulder in his side, and driving him back, toward the center of the room. They both stumbled, but he maintained his grip, even as scrabbling claws ripped and tore at his exposed back and neck. He could feel warm blood dripping from the fresh wounds, but ignored it, gritting his teeth against the pain, driving the raging wolf farther across the room, toward the windows.

That was the half-baked plan, shrouded in pain and anger and adrenaline, that formed in Scott's mind. Bryan was too big, too strong to deal with properly in the loft. In open space, with room to get around behind him, get him turning, open up some vulnerable areas, they would have had a shot. But not here, with his back to a wall and a significant reach advantage. And he didn't seem to be tiring. Throw him out the window. Let gravity do what they couldn't. Or at least give them a chance to breathe, to regroup, to take the fight somewhere they were less hemmed in.

Before he could reach his destination, the plan hit a snag. As they were passing a column, Bryan reached out and sank his claws into the brick, jerking them to a halt. Before Scott could renew his push, a massive elbow came crashing down heavily on the back of his skull, and his vision went blurry, his grip failing. A second blow drove him to his knees, right before a fist caught him square in the side of the head, sending him crashing to the floor.

Rolling onto his back, he blinked blearily a couple times, his vision narrowed to a tiny spot on the vaulted ceiling, his other senses strangely distant. Slowly, he turned his head, the room snapping into focus just as Bryan started toward him. He could have sworn he saw the floor shake as the hulking shifter stalked toward him, his addled mind absently taking note of Malia's desperate dive forward, trying to get between them. She wasn't going to get there in time, a part of him knew, and he instinctively tried to rise, failing when his limbs refused to respond.

He was so out of it, he almost didn't even register when somebody suddenly leapt over him, coming from the other side of the room, and landed a flying punch that sent Bryan stumbling back into the same column from earlier. It was only when the person turned and reached for him that he recognised him.

"Derek?"

His voice was weak, raspy, and the sound of it was almost like a blast of cold water to his own mind, jolting him out of his momentary stupor. As he was hauled bodily back to his feet, Scott shook his head once, twice, three times, willing away the fog clouding his senses. When it went, he almost regretted it, his injured back and aching head exploding in pain. But that shock of sudden agony cleared his mind completely, leaving him fully aware and in control once again.

"Good timing," he muttered as Derek turned, standing tall on his right, just as Malia settled in on his left, all three staring at the hulking shifter regaining its footing a dozen feet from them.

"You know me. I like to be dramatic. What's the plan, Scott?"

"Window."

"You know those things are really expensive, right?"

"So are funerals."

Derek huffed out an amused breath, then suddenly dropped a shoulder and darted forward, aiming low. Malia was a step behind him, aiming high, divining his plan on the fly. As Derek's arms wrapped around the shifter's legs, trapping him in place, she leapt in the air, crashing heavily into his chest, driving him back, trying to knock him off his feet. But instead of falling, he turned and dropped to his knees, bringing all his weight down on Derek's head and back, driving him hard into the floor. Malia tried to jump back, but he was quicker, catching her with a sharp blow to the jaw that sent her stumbling toward the window, shaking her head woozily.

As Bryan slowly rose to his feet, Scott let out a growl and dashed forward, leaping through the air and onto the unsuspecting wolf's back. He managed to get an arm around his neck and tried to squeeze as hard as he could as his opponent growled and roared and tried to shake him off. He held on for dear life, sinking the choke in as deeply as he could, slowly cutting off his opponent's air supply. Locked in, he began twisting hard, trying to guide the stumbling shifter to the left, away from Derek and Malia, trying to buy them time to recover.

It took a moment, but he was sure he felt Bryan starting to weaken beneath him, the noises just a little quieter, the wild struggles not quite as impactful. But before he could seize on that, the enraged shifter abruptly swung around, smashing him into the column. Fiery pain flared all along his right side, weakening his grip, and before he could recover, he felt himself suddenly flying through the air, up and over and landing flat on his back on the ground, driving all the air from his lungs.

For a brief second, lying there, looking up at the tall figure looming over him, Scott honestly thought it was the end. After everything he'd come up against, everything he'd done, he'd seen, he'd lived through, all the people who wanted him gone, he was going to die there, tonight, at the hands of somebody he'd never even met before. Somebody who wasn't even after him.

It was almost funny.

But then Bryan suddenly disappeared, jerked back out of his line of sight. Craning his neck, Scott squinted, trying to see what was going on. It took him a second to spot the arms clasped around the struggling Alpha's waist, and another to realise Malia had grabbed him from behind while he was distracted, was dragging him back, toward the window. Almost like it was happening in slow motion, he watched as she planted her feet and turned her hips, using the momentum and leverage to lift the much taller shifter off the ground, flipping him up and over herself and into the window. He crashed through the thick glass with a roar, exploding out into the dark night, and plummeted like a stone.

Silence reigned in the destroyed loft for a moment. Scott, caught between the elation of victory and blinding pain, still trying to recover his lost breath. Derek, covered in dust and debris, kneeling next to the column, looking around at his destroyed loft as blood trickled from an ugly gash on his forehead. Malia standing in the broken window, looking down at the ground below, gingerly rubbing at her jaw.

"Well, that went well." All three looked to the door, where Peter was standing, surveying the damage with a grin on his face. Though his previous injuries were still there, he looked otherwise untouched, unsullied, all the pain and exhaustion he's showed upon their arrival suddenly much less evident. "Did the fall kill him?"

"No." Malia shot a look back over her shoulder, then grimaced and shook her head. "I don't know, he didn't hit the ground flat. I think he caught the wall on the way down or something. I think I saw him run off."

"Unfortunate." For a second, Peter's smug grin faltered, but when his eyes met Scott's, it returned in full force, abruptly turning feral as he took one step toward him.

Instantly, Malia was there, between them, claws out, fangs bared. Peter froze as she lifted a hand and pointed. "Back." Raising his hands, he inclined his head and backed away, as Derek circled around to stand next to him. "Watch him, Derek."

"Oh, I will. I'll be watching him very close." Turning, he arched an eyebrow at his uncle. "I think we're overdue for a nice, long chat. What do you think, Peter?"

Scott missed the response, because as soon as she saw her father was being dealt with, Malia turned and knelt next to him, cutting off his view. He could see the worry on her face, the concern for him, even as she grimaced, reaching down to cup his cheek gently. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alive. Does that count?"

Her expression briefly shifted into a little smile at that. "Cracking jokes is probably a good sign." Before he could reply, her face abruptly went blank, eyes closing. For a second, he was confused, until he felt his pain begin to lessen, black lines slowly creeping up her arm, drawing it into herself. She couldn't take it all, there was just too much, but it was enough to take the edge off. "Did that help?" she asked softly a second later, frowning, able to sense just how much pain he was still in.

"Yeah, it did. Give me a hand?" With her help, he was able to get back to his feet, which were surprisingly steady underneath him. He shifted his weight from foot to foot for a second, just to make sure, then rolled his shoulders, wincing, but finding the pain tolerable. She watched him closely as he examined himself, ready to steady him if needed, but after a moment, he caught her eye and smiled. "I'm good. Or, close enough, anyway. Are you okay?" His eyes traced over her jaw, where Bryan had connected, a slight bruise already forming there.

She flashed him a smile, one that didn't reach her eyes, lips tight. "I'll be okay. More worried about you."

As she spoke, she slid her hand into his, and he wrapped his around it, giving a gentle tug, pulling her toward him. She came willingly, relief written on her face as she pressed a kiss to his lips, indifferent to their audience, or the dirt and blood on both their faces. After all the pain and fear and violence, kissing her felt like Heaven, and if the need to breathe wasn't such an important one, he would have been happy to stand there, together with her, for the rest of the night.

When they broke apart, Scott took a second, leaning his forehead against hers, thankful that they were both still there, both still alive and okay. Then he turned to face the two Hales across the room, his eyes passing over Peter dismissively and landing on Derek.

"Derek. Man, it is good to see you." It really was. It hadn't really hit him, until he saw his face, just how much he'd missed the man. He might as well have been a brother, _had been_ like an older brother after their rocky start, helping and guiding him through being a werewolf, becoming an Alpha, forming and protecting his pack. He'd felt the loss of his steadying presence keenly through all the stuff with the Beast, as everything fell apart around him, had found himself wishing more than once for a miraculous return. And now here he was, just in the nick of time. "I'd hug you, but I don't think I can keep my arms up long enough."

Letting out a chuckle, the younger Hale stepped toward him, reaching out and clasping his shoulder fondly. "It's all right. You're covered in blood anyway." Pausing, his shook his head, then grinned and nodded slowly. "It's good to see you too, Scott. Both of you." His eyes flickered to Malia, then to their joined hands, his lips twitching. "I think we have a lot to talk about. But it can wait until tomorrow. You guys should try and rest, heal a little bit. Malia was right. You look like crap."

Instead of responding, Scott nodded toward Peter, who had his hands in his pockets and a bored expression on his face. "We need to talk to him."

"We do." Derek nodded. "But not tonight. Go home. Clean those wounds. Get some sleep. Things will keep until tomorrow, all right?"

For a second, he hesitated, glaring at Peter, who kept studiously avoiding his gaze. It was only when Malia gave his hand a little squeeze that he sighed and nodded, refocusing on Derek. "Okay. Tomorrow. Early. You two be at my house by seven-thirty. I want to know everything you both know before we have to..." He waved his hand toward the window, "deal with that guy again."

"I like to sleep in until at least nine," Peter interjected, rolling his eyes when his words only drew glares from the three of them. "No sense of humour, any of you."

"Sorry," Scott said dryly, "Getting my ass kicked doesn't really put me in the best of moods."

Peter snorted. "What do you know? We do have something in common after all."

"Okay." Clapping him on the shoulder again, Derek stepped to the side and gestured toward the door. "Let's get out of here. I think I'll be getting a hotel room for tonight," he said, looking around what was left of his loft with a speculative look on his face as Scott started toward the door, Malia sticking close to his side. "Hey, you guys gonna be okay?"

"I've got him," she threw back over her shoulder, as she wrapped an arm around his waist, flashing him a smile when he shot her a grateful look.

"All the stairs might be an issue," he muttered, wincing as each step pulled at his wounds.

"You guys know there used to be a bar on the floor below us, right? There's a freight elevator there that'll take you right to the first floor."

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?"

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _Finally got to the action. It went on way longer than I intended, so I pushed some more Scott/Malia-centered scenes planned for here to the next chapter instead. If that's what you're here for, there'll definitely be more of it next week. But I hope you like this too. I'm a sucker for when Scott and Malia save each other, how they have each other's backs, and the opportunity for a little intimate tending to wounds afterwards is just icing on the cake. As always, let me know what you think. I'm kind of at a crossroads with this story, and I could go more like this chapter is, or more like the previous ones are moving forward._


	10. 10

**10**

"Are you okay?"

Scott was sure the smile he forced onto his face when Malia looked over at him was closer to a grimace than anything else, but he couldn't help it. The last of the lingering adrenaline from the fight had faded during the drive home, and his injuries were starting to take a toll. He felt drained, weak from blood loss and simple exhaustion, his wounds itching and burning as they slowly started to heal. Just making it up the stairs to his room had been a chore, only her silent presence at his back keeping him steady on his feet, moving.

"I'm fine," he said, cringing at the little waver he picked up in his own voice, as she raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Letting out a sigh, he smiled sheepishly and reached for her hand, folding his fingers around hers and pulling her closer. "Really, I'm okay. Tired, sore, soaked in my own blood, but okay." He paused, his hand coming up and tracing over the gash above her eye. "How about you?"

She scoffed. "That's barely a scratch, Scott. Now take your shirt off."

An amused smirk on his face, he did as he was told, unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off as she closed the bathroom door behind them. The torn material caught in the dried blood around his wounded neck and back, pulling uncomfortably at the ripped flesh, but he gritted his teeth and got the job done. Balling it up, he tossed it to the floor, to stay until morning when he could take a closer look and decide if it was salvageable or destined for the garbage dump. He was betting on the latter.

"Turn around." Looking up, he found her eyes on him, a little frown twisting her lips. "Turn around," she repeated, gesturing toward the sink. Slowly, he followed her directions, limping over and leaning against the sink, exposing his back to her. He heard the floor creak as she stepped up behind him, saw her reflection appear in the mirror above the sink, followed by a second of silence, then a little sigh. "Jesus, Scott."

"Is it that bad?" he asked, flinching a little and grimacing as she ghosted her fingers along the base of his neck, directly above the worst of the mess.

"It's not good. There's a lot of blood." She fell silent then, and he felt her hand come to rest on his lower back, warm skin pressing lightly against his. "You're lucky he didn't tear right through your spine," she said softly, a slight tremor in her voice.

It took him a second to realise the pain was receding again, dulling slightly as she pulled more of it out of him. Frowning, he almost told her to stop, before biting his tongue, jaw clenching tight. It didn't matter that he didn't want her to take his pain into herself, that she was battered, bruised, and aching from the fight herself. They both knew he'd do it for her no matter how much she protested, if the situation was reversed. And it was helping, taking the edge off, making it a little easier to concentrate, to focus on healing.

Abruptly, she pulled away, and he looked back to see her grabbing a towel out of the cupboard. Returning to him, she handed it over. "Wet that. You've got some fabric stuck in your wounds." She grimaced and shook her head, her eyes roving over his back. "I'm gonna try to pick them out."

They both went about their tasks quietly, the only sound in the room coming from the running water. Scott bit his lip to keep from making crying out as she dug through his torn flesh with her claws, picking out little shreds of fabric. He could smell the tension coming off her, how hard she was trying to avoid hurting him too much, her movements slow, careful, and smiled reassuringly when her eyes found his in the mirror. He appreciated the effort, but there was only so much she could do. It wasn't a job that lent itself to being overly gentle. And he was fine with it. Better a little pain now than healing around something and having to have it cut out later. But that didn't make it any easier on her and her reluctance to cause him any more pain.

"There," she said a moment later, and they both let out sighs of relief as she relaxed slightly. "I think I got it all. Towel?" She held out her hand, and he passed it back to her, grimacing at the way the movement pulled at his wounds.

As she began to dab at his back, slowly wiping away the dried blood, he hung his head and took a couple deep breaths. It still hurt, but not as bad as her claws had, and it was a relief to finally get rid of some of the sticky, itchy dried blood. Even just that little bit made him feel better, cleaner, despite the dirt and dust in his hair and on his face.

When Malia suddenly brushed over a particularly raw spot, he let out a hiss of pain and straightened up, back arching slightly. She didn't pause in her movements, but his new position gave him a different view of her in the mirror. She was focused on what she was doing, face the picture of concentration, but there was something in her expression, in the tightness of her jaw, the slight crease in her brow, that had him frowning. He knew that look, recognised the emotion there, the concern, the worry.

"Hey," he said softly, and she let out a little _hmm_ of acknowledgement. "We're gonna be all right. I know this Bryan guy is strong, but we're gonna be fine. We're gonna deal with it."

Looking up, her eyes narrowed as she met his gaze in the mirror and nodded, a mixture of amusement and confusion twisting her face. "Yeah, I know. We'll get him next time. I mean, I'm not expecting an easy go of it or anything. The guy hits like a truck. But we'll get him."

"Okay," he said slowly, drawing the word out, a little confused himself. "So you're not worried about that, then?"

She scoffed. "No. Well, maybe a little bit. He really did a number on you, Scott." Her voice softened as she pressed her free hand against his side, just above his belt. "I don't—I don't like seeing you hurt." Before he could respond, she cleared her throat and pressed on. "And if Lydia or Stiles or Mason had been there... well, they're a little more breakable than us. I'm _always_ worried about them." Then her voice hardened, strengthened. "But we'll protect them. We always do."

"Damn right," he muttered, drawing a little grin from her as she went back to cleaning him up. For a second, he watched her work, still seeing that same worry in her, and unsure of what was causing it. Until it abruptly came to him. "Peter."

She immediately tensed, jaw clenching. "What about him?" Her tone was sharp.

"You really lost it on him. I was worried about you." She'd pulled herself together pretty quickly, but still. That initial reaction had been unexpected, violent, brutal. "Are you—are you okay?"

For a second, she was silent, stubbornly avoiding his gaze as her strokes with the towel got harder, rougher. He was fully prepared for her to try and deny any problems, try to minimise the issues she had with the man. But to his surprise, her face abruptly relaxed, expression softening as she finally looked up and caught his eye. "It was when he grabbed you," she admitted quietly, her hand stilling. "I just—I just flashed back to Mexico, to what I almost did, to what he tried to make me do, and..." Her words trailed off into a low growl, eyes briefly flaring blue before she shook her head. "I snapped. All I could think about was making him pay, making him hurt for what he did to you."

"I think he did pay," he replied. "A couple months in Eichen House isn't exactly a picnic."

"That's not enough!" she stated, anger colouring her tone. "Not for what he did, what he tried to do!" Pausing, she took a deep breath, then patted his side softly, and dropped the towel. "I've done all I can here." Her voice was tight, strained as she tried to inject some false serenity into it with the abrupt conversation change. "You'll have to shower to get the rest."

"Malia..."

Her jaw clenched. " _Don't_ , Scott. He tried to kill you. He tried to make _me_ kill you. He—" She cut off, rage twisting her face, averting her eyes somewhere off to their right, away from the mirror.

Frowning, he turned toward her, eyes quickly scanning her face, her expression, and the emotion there, the pain. Seeing that, he was sure he'd never hated anyone more than he hated Peter in that moment, for causing that, doing that to her. "Hey. Malia, look at me." She stubbornly kept her gaze directed away for a second, but he waited her out, never wavering, and finally she looked back. "He failed. He always fails. He didn't hurt me, in Mexico or tonight, not really. And neither did you." Reaching out with both hands, he loosely grasped her wrists, eyes locked on hers. "He took his shot, and he missed, and look what it got him. Hopefully he learned his lesson. But if he didn't, and he tries again—"

"I'll kill him."

The words were said without inflection, with no trace of a growl or any of the anger she'd expressed before. Just a statement made, not to be questioned or argued with.

"Malia," he said gently, after a brief pause, just looking at her face, at the absolute certainty he saw there, "you don't have to—"

"I'll kill him," she repeated, her tone unchanged. "I hated him before. I wanted to hurt him for manipulating me, for putting everybody in danger, and for trying to kill you. He didn't even finish the job and I still wanted to rip him to shreds. This time, if he tries again, I won't hesitate."

"But I don't want it to come to that," he protested softly. "He's not worth it, Malia, not worth the effort, and definitely not worth the consequences. If he comes at me again, we'll deal with it, but I don't want you to have to kill him."

"I don't want to either!" she growled, eyes flashing blue. "But I will! To protect you, I will! I'm not gonna let him hurt you, or take you away from me. Not now, now that I'm in lo—"

She stopped abruptly, and he could see a slight flush come to her cheeks as she shifted slightly and cleared her throat. He could hear her heart hammering in her chest, his own almost matching its beat, as her words, what she'd almost said hung heavy in the air between them. Slowly, his lips began to twitch, a smile fighting to appear as he caught her eye and arched an eyebrow. A full-on grin broke out when instead of looking away or trying to walk back her words, she just met his gaze unflinchingly, almost a challenge. Unable to resist, he pulled her close, his wounds forgotten, hands coming up and framing her face as he slanted his lips over hers, swallowing any words either of them might have said. They could, would come, but later.

"Things are different now," he murmured against her lips when they broke apart.

Eyes bright, she nodded, as her arms wrapped around his waist, pulled him tight to her. "Yeah, they are. And I can't... If he goes after you again, it'll be the last thing he ever does." Again, her voice went cold, a solemn vow.

Rather than try to say anything, or argue, Scott just leaned in and touched his forehead to hers. That was Malia, he knew. He'd seen how protective she was before, of the entire pack, of Lydia and Stiles, and even himself on occasion. But things really were different now, and fully spoken or not, the connection between them was deep, deep enough to make him wonder just how far he'd go to protect her if her life was threatened. All he could do was hope neither of them ever found themselves in a position where they had to find out.

Pulling back, he shot her a little smile and nodded. "We'll deal with whatever happens. Like I said, I've got your back, and you've got mine, and we'll handle whatever comes, right?"

Slowly, eyes locked on his, she nodded, as a bright smile spread across her face. "I like what we're doing, Scott, what we have here, and there's no way in hell I'm letting anyone take that away from us. Not now."

"Me too." Leaning down, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, thumbs tracing across her cheeks. "Now, for the rest of tonight, how about we just let Derek worry about Peter, all right? There'll be enough of his crap tomorrow." Pausing, he arched an eyebrow. "I think you said something about a shower? I know battle wounds aren't exactly the height of sexy, but..."

Grinning, she pulled back, just far enough to peel off her shirt, tossing it on the floor next to his. Whatever exhaustion he'd been feeling, whatever pain, faded into the background as she reached behind and unhooked her bra, discarding it as she grabbed his hand, pulling him across the room, toward the shower.

"I just scrubbed your back. I think it's only fair you return the favour."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

The sensation of fingers lightly trailing across his back slowly drew Scott from the pleasant void of slumber and back to wakefulness. A little smile tugged at his lips as his eyes flickered opened, revealing his room softly lit by early morning sunlight just creeping through the windows.

"How does it look?" he asked, voice rough from sleep.

Malia's fingers briefly stilled, five points of heat against his skin. "Completely healed," she murmured a second later, as she trailed her hand up over his shoulder and gently grasped his arm. The bed springs creaked then as she leaned in and pressed a kiss right at the base of his neck, where the worst of the injuries had been, drawing a shiver from him. He could feel her lips move against his skin, curving into a smile. "Any pain?"

"No," he rasped, his pulse quickening as her hand slipped off his shoulder, tracing slowly down his side. "Just a little stiff."

She huffed out an amused breath, warm against his neck, as her hand crested over his hip. "I bet it is."

Unable to help it, he started to laugh, whole body shaking with mirth. Rolling suddenly, he turned over onto his back and looked at her, spotting the impish grin on her face as their eyes met. Reaching over, he slid his hand into hers and tugged, pulling her over him, across him, and she came willingly, sinking into a long, lingering kiss. His hands found their way under the hem of the long t-shirt she'd been sleeping in, coming to rest on her hips as hers framed his face, holding him steady as she worked her lips over his hungrily.

When they broke apart a moment later, breathless and flushed, Scott let his head sink back into his pillow and grinned. "I know we've got stuff to do this morning," he murmured, absently tracing little patterns on her skin as she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, breathing heavily, "but if you asked me to stay in bed and do more of that instead, I definitely wouldn't put up much of a fight."

"Don't tempt me," she muttered, before lifting her head and meeting his gaze, eyes bright, heated. "We've still got some time though. It's not even seven yet."

He was more than happy to welcome her in for another kiss, wrapping his arms around her, crushing her to him. As he rolled them both over, settling between her legs, a part of his mind knew they should get up, get dressed, get ready to deal with the inevitably unpleasant interrogation of Peter. It was bound to be dark and difficult, because everything the man did was. But that part was pushed aside, fully ignored as he concentrated on Malia, on the feeling of her pressed against him, on her scent all around him, on the taste of her lips. The dark could wait a little longer. He was busy with the light.

Unfortunately, the world had other plans for them. It was only a few moments later, as he was in the process of leisurely kissing his way down her body, that his phone rang, the unexpected noise washing over them like a cold shower. Pausing, he sighed, then let his head drop down onto her stomach as he let out a humourless chuckle.

"I guess that's our sign."

"Ignore it," she bit out, hands tangling in his hair and pushing insistently, trying to guide him lower. "Whoever it is can wait."

He smirked at her persistent efforts, tempted to give in. But the brief interruption had let reality creep back in, and given the current issues they were dealing with, he knew he shouldn't shirk his responsibilities right now. Pressing one last, quick kiss to the smooth skin beneath her bellybutton, he rolled over and snagged his phone off the bedside table.

Throwing her arm across her face, Malia let out an irritated growl, one that she repeated when he muttered, "It's Stiles."

"I'm going to murder him," she stated, voice hard, and he couldn't help but grin.

"Malia's gonna kill you," he said in place of a greeting when he let the call connect.

"I—what? Why?" Whatever reason Stiles had for calling was completely derailed, utter confusion dominating his tone. "What did I do?"

"Just bad timing," he replied, biting his lip to keep from laughing as she glared at him. Shaking himself lightly, he sat up, leaning back against the wall, and switched the phone to his other hand. "Don't worry about it, man. What's up?"

Stiles hesitated for a second, and Scott was sure he could hear the wheels turning in his friend's head. But after a second, he heard a sigh, followed by, "Something happened at Derek's loft last night. Some lady called the cops, I guess she was walking her dog and heard people fighting or something. My dad checked it out, and he says the place is completely trashed. I figure it's no coincidence Peter gets back to town and something immediately goes down there, right? So I'm gonna grab Lydia and head over there before school. Can you meet us there?"

Letting his head fall back, Scott sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "No, don't—you don't have to do that. I... we know what happened at the loft, okay? We were there. We know a lot more about everything, actually. Just don't worry about it for now, and we'll fill you in at school, all right?"

"Scott, what the hell? You were there?" He could hear the worry clearly over the line, and grimaced. "What's going on, man? You've gotta give me more than that. Are you guys all right?"

"We're fine," he quickly said. "Not a scratch on either of us." Technically not a lie, at least not anymore. "I, uh... we saw Peter and Derek," he finally revealed after a second's hesitation. He'd have preferred not to say anything until he could give the whole story, but he knew Stiles wouldn't even consider getting off the phone with so little revealed. "Derek's got Peter taken care of for now, so we're good on that end."

"Okay..." Stiles drew out the word, trying to prompt him to say more. "That's... a relief, I guess. Did you guys throw down with Peter then?"

"No, we ran into a little problem with—" He cut off then as Malia abruptly sat up straight and cocked her ear to the side. He shot her a confused look as her eyes narrowed, only catching on when she pointed to the window and mouthed 'they're here'. Tilting his head, Scott closed his eyes and concentrated, and a second later, he picked up Derek's familiar voice bantering with an equally familiar but much less liked one. "Listen, Stiles, I gotta go. Just meet us in the parking lot before class, all right? We'll fill you guys in then."

"I—okay, I guess. You're sure you guys are all right?"

"Yeah, we're good. Gotta go." He ended the call before any more questions could come through, then snorted and ran his fingers through his hair. "Probably should have called him and Lydia last night and told them everything. You know he's is gonna be freaking out until he sees us, and he's gonna drag her right along with him."

Malia, who'd already slid out of bed and was in the process of digging out some clean clothes, just shrugged. "Stiles worries about everything. He'll be fine. And Lydia will keep him from exploding."

Scott grunted his agreement as he went on his own clothes hunt and began to dress. It was only as he was pulling up his jeans that something occurred to him, and he frowned. "Oh crap," he said, turning toward Malia. "My mom doesn't know we've got company coming. She's probably not gonna be super happy to see Peter again. They kinda—she's just not gonna be happy."

"Don't worry about it," she said, waving off his concern as she slipped her shorts on. "I caught your mom and Argent when they got in last night." Briefly, he flashed back to the middle of the night, to waking up abruptly as she slid back into bed behind him, wrapping herself around him. Exhausted, he'd quickly sunk back into sleep, before he could ask where she'd been. "I told them there'd be visitors this morning. They were both kinda pissed we just went after Peter without telling anybody, but I didn't tell them about you getting hurt, so I think we're good."

"Yeah, until Peter opens his big mouth," he muttered, shaking his head. Before either of them could say anything else, he heard the sound of the front door opening, followed by his mom's voice as she greeted Derek. "We should have talked to him last night. It's too early in the morning for his crap."

"There's never a good time to talk to Peter." He couldn't argue with that. "But he's here now, so let's just get it over with." As she spoke, she stepped over to him and rested her hands on his belt. "Then we can get to school, fill everybody in, and get through this stupid day. And then we can come back here and... finish what you started." How she said it, coupled with the way she lifted an eyebrow, the way the corner of her mouth was twitching drew a grin from Scott.

Slipping his arms around her waist, he leaned in for a long kiss. "To be continued," he said when they broke apart, voice barely more than a growl. She just grinned, grabbing his hand, and led him from the room.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"All right, one more time, just so we're clear," Scott said, looking the former Alpha directly in the eye. "You heard about the Cobb pack being wiped out and decided to investigate?"

Peter nodded, a little smirk on his face. "Well, I was in Los Angeles at the time. It seemed like the thing to do."

Scott's jaw clenched, his patience for the man's mannerisms already stretched to the breaking point. It had taken the better part of forty minutes to get the tale out of Peter, who was unable to stop himself from taking shots at everybody in the room as he went along. Derek looked about ready to leap across the kitchen table and strangle his uncle, while Argent's hand kept involuntarily creeping inside his jacket, to the gun he had holstered there. Next to the hunter, Malia looked about as tense as he could ever remember seeing her, whole body rigid as she tried to restrain herself. And he couldn't blame any of them. The only bright spot was his mom had taken off soon after the two Hales arrived, giving some excuse about grocery shopping. Small mercies.

All that was only compounded by the fact he was sure he was being lied to. Once the story was laid out, it was perfectly logical, albeit a little sparse on the details. It made sense, covered all the bases, and painted Peter in the exact power-hungry light they all saw him in. And yet Scott couldn't shake the feeling the man was playing with him, with them, for absolutely no reason he could figure out.

"Okay. So you looked into it, found out Ashley and Bryan had survived somehow, and decided you'd found a way to become an Alpha again?"

"That's right."

"How did you know one of them had become an Alpha?" Argent interjected.

Peter's eyes found the former hunter's as Scott looked up, interested in the answer. "Because George Cobb was dead. I believe his body was found a block away from the house. And yet nobody was taking credit. Believe me, you put down an Alpha in a fight..." He trailed off and shook his head, a bloodthirsty grin spreading across his face. "That's not the kind of thing you keep to yourself."

Across the table, Derek was nodding, though the look on his face was closer to distaste than the twisted expression on his uncle's. "It's true," he confirmed. "If a Beta had done it, it'd be obvious. And if the opposing Alpha had done it, he'd have advertised. It would make any potential challengers think twice about coming for him."

"Yes, very good, Derek." Irritated at being interrupted, Peter glared at his nephew, then refocused on Scott. "It only made sense that the power would pass to one of his children. Not unlike what happened with Laura when my dear sister met her end." Derek let out a low growl at that, but was ignored. "I'd heard of the boy's control issues, so when I couldn't find them, it wasn't much of a leap to figure out where they may have gone. And when the attacks started..." He spread his arms and leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "And here I am."

"Unfortunately," Malia muttered, earning herself a glare from her father.

Shaking his head, Scott slapped the table, drawing all eyes back to him. "How did you find Ashley at that bar?" It had been puzzling him from the start, how apparently easily the elder wolf had tracked her down. They hadn't been able to turn up anything, and he just waltzes into town and finds her? It didn't make sense.

To his surprise, Peter threw up his hands, mild annoyance flashing across his face. "How do you think I found her? I dug up a lead, I followed it. Simple detective work." Frowning, he shook his head. "What do you want me to say, Scott? That I'm not as inept at this as you? Because that's painfully obvious."

As the former Alpha glared at him, Scott made a mental note that he hadn't actually answered the question, then moved on. There was just too much information being exchanged to get hung up on any one part at the moment. "All right, fine." Taking a deep breath, he rubbed at his forehead, then shrugged. "What can you tell us about Bryan? I mean... he was... uh, _strong_. Really strong."

At that, Peter sank back in his seat and slowly shook his head. "Honestly," he said, a faraway look in his eyes, "I don't know." For the first time all morning, his words actually sounded entirely sincere to Scott's ears. "Rage can turn us into monsters, we all know that. But this is more than that."

"I think it's gotta be a mixture of things," Derek said softly. "Pre-existing control issues. His pack being wiped out. Suddenly having that Alpha power..." He trailed off, expression solemn. "It's not a great combination."

"Probably doesn't help that genius here tried to kill him." Malia gestured to her father. "He only came after us last night after he couldn't get to you. You pissed him off, Peter."

"I've pissed off everybody in this room," he shot back, "more than once. None of you have managed to kill me yet."

"Well, actually—"

"Shut up, Derek. That doesn't count. I came back from that."

"Hey!" This time, Scott slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to draw an ominous creak from the piece of furniture. Cringing at the noise, he held his breath for a second, and when it didn't immediately collapse, he let out a relieved sigh, then looked Peter in the eye. "You found him, you found where they were staying, right?" He got a nod. "There's no way what we fought last night was just sitting somewhere calm before you got there. So what's the deal?"

"The deal?" Leaning forward, Peter gestured around the room. "What do you think the deal is, Scott? You think he's just walking around like that all the time, a raving beast, out of control, unrestrained? Beacon Hills would look like a war zone. No, he's like you, like me, like them." He nodded at Derek and Malia. "He's human sometimes. Maybe even the majority of the time. Until he very suddenly _isn't_. But unlike us, when that shift happens, his conscious mind goes right out the door. He's pure animalistic rage and damn near limitless strength and fury. And it's only going to get worse. Do you know what happens on Sunday?"

Caught off-guard by the seemingly unrelated question, Scott froze, frowning. "Uh, no?"

Peter rolled his eyes, but before he could speak, Malia did. "Full moon."

"Yes, a full moon. It's Thursday now, which means we don't have a lot of time. He's only going to get stronger the closer we get. Come Sunday..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "We're gonna get an entire night of him loose in the city, like he was last night, only stronger, even more vicious."

For a second, Scott just stared at Peter, letting the import of his words sink in. Under different circumstances, he might have given more consideration to the slight undertone of worry in the man's voice, barely audible but unmistakable, or the way his eyes darted to Malia, and then to Derek. But he was preoccupied, memories of the pain, of the ease with which Bryan had tossed them all around the loft flooding his mind. The idea that he'd be even stronger next time made his jaw clench, the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. Like fighting a tank, Peter had said. It seemed apt. A supernatural tank, with fangs and claws and zero control. A killer.

But also not a killer, he couldn't help but remind himself. A danger, yes, and definitely a threat, but underneath it all, a kid. A grieving kid who'd lost most of his family and had great power thrust upon him unexpectedly. A kid who wasn't in control of his actions, a victim of his own circumstances. He wasn't a monster who needed to be put down. He was a person who needed help.

"Okay," he said slowly, rising, turning his back to Peter, his eyes finding Malia's across the room. "So we need to find him before then. Maybe..." He shook his head and sighed. "Maybe we can find him when he's human and, I don't know, find a way to restrain him, to keep him from shifting."

"I don't know, Scott," Derek said, leaning back in his seat, expression contemplative, brow heavily furrowed. "With what I saw last night... I don't know if there are restraints powerful enough to keep him down."

"What about Mountain Ash?" Malia floated, crossing her arms, a thoughtful look on her face. "If we find him, we could throw up a barrier, keep him contained. I mean, even strong as he is, it'd probably hold him, right?"

Slowly, Argent nodded, considering. "It would. Probably," he tacked on when Derek frowned. "It's not infallible, but I think it's fair to assume it would hold. The issue is what to do after that. If he really is as far gone as you say, I think it's unlikely he'd shift back once we had him trapped. So we're stuck there with a raging, mindless werewolf, until either the circle breaks, or he gets exhausted and shifts back. And then what?" Lips pursed, he looked from Scott, to Derek, then back again. "We still have no plans for keeping him contained long-term. And if he can't regain control on his own, there's not gonna be a safe place for him." He paused. "We might need to find a more permanent solution."

Scott gritted his teeth at the implication, shaking his head resolutely. "We're not killing him. Not unless we have to." He made eye contact with both the men, ignoring Peter's snort in the background. "Is there a way to stop someone from shifting?"

Argent hesitated for a second. "Sort of. There's a type of wolfsbane that's extremely lethal to werewolves, but in a heavily diluted form can... almost bind their power, in a way." Scott straightened up at that, eyes brightening as hope suddenly bloomed inside him. "But it's very rare," he cautioned, "and from what I understand, the effects can be volatile, and extremely painful."

"But it would stop the shift?" he prompted.

"Yes." Rising from his seat, Derek crossed his arms as he met Scott's eyes and nodded. "It would keep him human. Or close enough. But Argent's right. This stuff is... it's poison. My mother told me about it when I was a kid. It... the shift-blocking is just one of the effects," he explained. "If you want my honest opinion, he'd be better off dead."

For a second, Scott hesitated. The visceral disgust he felt at the thought of killing somebody who wasn't at fault for their actions, no matter how brutal those actions were, was intense, almost physical. But he knew, logically, he couldn't discount the warnings from Derek or Argent. They both knew more about the supernatural than he did, and more about this particular plant. If he really was condemning Bryan to some horrific pain, some reduced existence, he needed to consider that, take everything into account.

But by the same token, while he didn't consider either man a killer in the same way Peter was, neither were nearly as opposed to the concept as he was. Killing, for them, was always an option, and not as a last resort. Not quick to make that call, necessarily, but quicker than maybe they should be.

Conflicted, his eyes found Malia's, found her watching him, sympathy burning in her eyes as she read the indecision on his face. And as she slowly nodded, the corner of her mouth ticking up just ever so slightly, he felt his resolve harden. She had his back. Lydia had his back. Stiles had his back. It was his call, and they'd follow him, whether they fully agreed or not. They all trusted him, trusted him to be the leader, make the decisions, even if those decisions didn't always line up with how they saw things. Trusted him to do the right thing.

"How long to get some?" His voice was strong, firm as he locked eyes with Argent.

The hunter sighed, then shrugged. "A couple of days at least, probably more. It's... it's not the easiest thing to get your hands on, Scott. But I'll make some calls."

"Okay. Until then, we'll just have to deal with things, make sure Bryan doesn't get another opportunity to kill anyone. If we can trap him with Mountain Ash, we will. If we have to beat him unconscious and chain him up somewhere, we'll do that. One way or another, we'll find a way to keep him down until we can get some of that wolfsbane." Pausing, he frowned, brow furrowing as he turned back toward Peter. "What about Ashley? Could you find her again? If she's watching over him, maybe we can talk to her, handle this without it turning into another fight."

"Waste of time," Peter said, shaking his head. "If she's not already dead, she will be soon enough. And so will you." As he spoke, he stood and stepped away from the table, making pointed eye contact with everybody in the room. "You're going to get us killed trying to save a lost cause. By the time your miracle plant gets here, that monster will have torn you and half the town to shreds. There's only one way for us to help him, Scott. We put him out of his misery, before he puts us out of ours."

There was something in the way he said it, just casually tossed out the words, that triggered something in Scott. It wasn't just the ease with which he insisted they kill somebody, kill a kid, though that made his skin crawl just a little too. But it was the way he spoke, like they were suddenly a group, like he hadn't tried to murder all of them in the past, like he was one of them. After everything he'd done, he still thought he could just tear down their plans, bark out his own orders. Like his thoughts, his opinions mattered to anybody in that room.

No. It was time to put a stop to that.

Catching his eye, Scott glared at the former Alpha, lip curling slightly. "Us? _We_? Who's 'we', Peter? Are you one of us now? You want to help us?" Moving forward, he stood face to face with the man, staring directly into his eyes. "You're not our friend. You're not pack. You're a user and a killer. You remember Mexico? You tried to kill me, you tried to use Malia to kill me. How exactly would that make us allies?"

Peter's face was a blank mask as he stared him down, giving nothing away. "I've tried to kill you several times. We were allies after that."

Slowly, Scott shook his head, grim amusement settling on his face. "No, we really weren't. We could have been, maybe, but you were just too stubborn to know when to quit. Or too stupid. You could have left Beacon Hills, you could have done whatever you wanted. But instead you came after me, you came after my friends. You just couldn't let it go. You're a shitty person, and an even worse Alpha, and if you think we're gonna help you kill that kid just to get some of that power back..." His eyes flared red, voice dropping into a guttural growl as he leaned in, so close their noses almost touched. "You go after Bryan again, or even look at any of us wrong, and you're done here, Peter. Permanently."

Despite his tone, and the disgust he felt for the man in front of him, he felt calm, completely in control. This wasn't about anger or fear. It wasn't even really about the Cobbs. It was about making it clear, once and for all, just where they stood, where the line had been drawn, and why crossing it would be the worst idea the elder Hale had ever had.

A low growl burst from Peter's throat, his own eyes flashing blue as the blatant threat finally broke through his mask. "You don't get to decide that." His words were quiet but twisted by a raspy undertone as he fought to contain his rising anger.

"Yes, I do," Scott said softly, voice barely above a whisper. "Like it or not, _I'm_ the Alpha of Beacon Hills. You tried to be that, and you failed. And you can blame me for that all you want. It doesn't matter. I didn't take that power from you, and neither did Derek. Nobody did. It was never meant for you, or for him. It was Laura's, and since you made sure she couldn't have it, it died doing exactly what it was supposed to, exactly what your sister would have wanted it to. Saving the life of one of her children. Not murdering others."

For a moment, as he watched the warring emotions flash across the man's face, watched him struggle to keep from shifting, he thought Peter might attack him. His whole body was shuddering, teeth clenched tight, beads of sweat popping on his forehead as his hands curled into tight fists, desperately trying to suppress the urge to just reach out and try to fight the boy who'd been a thorn in his side so long. But Scott wasn't afraid. He'd already beaten him once, a humiliation he knew would never fade. He didn't need to do it again, had no interest in repeating that scene. Whatever sway the elder shifter may have had over him at one point was gone, replaced by something more like pity, or disgust, for someone so weak, so consumed by a desire for power.

"Time to leave, Peter," Derek said, voice tight, as he stepped up on Scott's left, his own hands clenched tight, ready to jump in if things got any more heated. Peter's eyes briefly flickered to his nephew, but he just let out a little growl, ignoring his words.

Malia moved to Scott's right then, her hand finding his even as her eyes, human, in control, found her father's. "Leave," she said firmly, expression set, impassive. "Just get out of here. Don't push us."

For a second, Peter didn't react, just staring at her, nostrils flaring. Then, slowly, his eyes began to fade, his whole body relaxing until the angry wolf was gone, only the arrogant man remaining. "And if I don't?" He gaze locked in on Scott, expression giving nothing away. "Big words, Scott, big threats. Are you going to kill me? You won't kill a raging beast who threatens the entire city, but you'll kill me?"

"He won't." Malia's voice cut through the room like a whip. "I will."

The pain that flashed across Peter's face then was so quick, gone in a flash, Scott almost thought he'd imagined it. After all, it had always seemed like the only emotion the elder Hale could feel with any sort of depth was anger or rage, that nothing else could really touch him. Except things were starting to come together in his mind, little things he'd been seeing in the man, in how he acted, what he'd said, and what he hadn't. It wasn't quite fully formed yet, not quite solidified, but the seeds were there, slowly sprouting, that maybe the hunt for power wasn't what really brought him back to Beacon Hills. Or at least wasn't the only reason. But he kept his thoughts to himself. There wasn't anything for him to say, anything he wanted or needed to convey. His point had been already been made and illustrated.

After a second's hesitation, Peter turned on his heel and stalked out of the house, leaving the door open behind him. Everybody stared after him for a moment, frozen, the tension of the encounter lingering, heavy in the air.

Abruptly, Argent let out the breath he'd been holding, and shook his head. "Jesus," he muttered, as he met Scott's gaze. "That was... that was something."

"It was necessary," he replied, his eyes tracking back to the open door, as Malia gave his hand a little squeeze. "He's too stubborn to really reason with, but he needs to understand I'm not going to let him do what he wants. Not now, not as long as he values power over everything else." Falling silent, his expression grew thoughtful for a second as he considered his recent theory, before he shook himself and focused on Derek. "Keep an eye on him."

"Yeah, I will." There was an odd tone to his voice, and when Scott raised an eyebrow in question, Derek silently extended a hand, holding it out until he got a bemused smile and a shake. "You were right," he said quietly, looking him right in the eye. "I was never meant to be an Alpha. Or at least not the one I became."

"Oh, no, Derek, I didn't—"

"No, it's all right. My mother's power... it ended like it should have. If things were different, if I could go back, maybe things would be different..." Trailing off, he shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "But using that power, that spark to save Cora... it's what she would have wanted."

For a second, Scott was silent, before a smile spread across his own face. "You'd make a great Alpha, Derek. Don't ever doubt it."

That got him a grin and a wink, before the younger Hale pulled away and turned toward Argent. "He gave me the address where the Cobbs were staying last night. I doubt either of them went back, but I'll text it to you and you can check it out."

"Not alone," Scott interjected.

"No, not alone. I'll call Parrish," the former hunter replied, as Derek departed, trailing his uncle out into the sunlight. As the door banged shut behind him, Argent blew out an amused breath. "All right, I'm gonna start the process and try to find some of that wolfsbane while I wait for Melissa to get back, and then I'll grab Parrish and check that place out. You two should get to school. Still might make it on time if you hurry."

Slowly, Scott nodded. "Yeah, okay. Call me if you find anything." When Argent nodded, he caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously. You didn't see this guy, what he could do. Do not try to take him on alone, even with Parrish. If you find him, run." He didn't blink until he got a slow, more deliberate nod of acknowledgement. "Good. Be careful."

As soon as Argent headed into the living room to start making calls, Scott sank down into the nearest chair and let out a long, heavy sigh. Almost immediately, Malia straddled his lap, her arms going around his neck as his hands instinctively moved to her waist, keeping her in place.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, concerned, running her fingers absently through his hair.

Smiling softly, he nodded, eyes locking on hers. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just... that was a long time coming. And I'm not naive enough to think that's the end of it, but it feels... I don't know. It feels important. I wasn't even mad, really. And I'm not gonna fight him again. What's the point? He thinks that's what power is, dominating people, controlling them, and it's just not. No, he just—he needs to understand where we all stand. He needs to realise things are not going to play out like he wants. And I really hope that finally sinks in."

"If it doesn't..." She bared her teeth and let out a threatening growl, whole body tensing.

His smile turned melancholy. "I think that's one thing he _does_ get. But it's not gonna come to that, Malia. You're never gonna have to make that choice."

"It's already made," she growled. "If he touches you again, I'll—"

Before she could get too worked up, he cut her off, leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers. For a split second, she went rigid, then relaxed into the kiss, all the tension bleeding out of her. He didn't break away until he was sure he'd successfully diverted her anger, pulling back just enough to flash her a sheepish smile.

"Was that supposed to distract me?" she murmured.

His smile faltered. "It was, yeah, but if you have to ask—"

She pressed a finger to his lips, cutting him off. "It worked. This time. Probably shouldn't try it too often though. Might lose its effectiveness."

"Noted," he said, grinning at the amusement he saw dancing in her eyes. For a brief second, he marvelled at how easily she could turn his mood around. Then he sighed. "We should get going. I bet we've got two very worried and pissed off friends impatiently waiting for us right now. Should probably deal with that as soon as possible."

"Ugh. Let's go."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _Okay, this chapter turned into something it was never intended to be. But as I was working on it, I decided it was a good time for Scott to directly sort of confront Peter and set things straight. I like Peter, but I feel like it would take more than just his connection to Malia to give up on killing Scott, like they played it in the show. And since I have plans for Peter moving forward, ones I not so subtly indicated in this chapter, I wanted to get everything straightened out now. Originally, their conversation was going to be much shorter, more comedic than anything else, but slightly more intense and contentious seemed the way to go. The length of it pushed a couple things to the next chapter, including a fun pack scene, and a revelation that at least one of you has already guessed lol. So, look forward to that, and a lot more Scott/Malia romance. As always, let me know what you think. And if you find any parts in either Peter's explanation, or what he and Scott said to each other that just don't make sense, let me know. It is very late, and I am very sleep-deprived, so it's entirely possible things aren't as clear as I'd like them to be. Anyway, hope you enjoy._


	11. 11

**11**

"Man, I wish I could have been there," Stiles said as he slung an arm over Scott's shoulder, a wide grin on his face. "Next time, you'd better FaceTime me or something first, because I will never get enough of seeing Peter getting put in his place."

"It wasn't like that," Scott protested, shrugging off his arm as they headed for the cafeteria. "It's like I told you this morning. It was time for him to learn that his crap just isn't going to fly around here anymore. It wasn't a fight. It wasn't even really an argument. Just a statement of fact."

Just as he'd predicted, Stiles and Lydia had been anxiously awaiting their arrival in the school parking lot, the former so worked up he was about to tear his own hair out, the latter trying to keep him from pacing a hole in the asphalt. With Malia's help, he'd laid everything out for them before class, going through the fight with Bryan, and everything they'd learned since, including the plan to use wolfsbane. Both of them had seemed to take grim satisfaction in hearing about his confrontation with Peter. Unfortunately, several hours later, Stiles just couldn't seem to get over it.

"Whatever you say, man. You know you should have punched him, right?"

He arched an eyebrow, hefting his backpack up higher on his shoulder. "And what would that have accomplished?"

Stiles shrugged. "It would have made my day a little brighter. Come on, dude. Tell me it wouldn't feel good to knock that smug look off his face. Go ahead and lie to me." That earned him an amused snort and an eye-roll as they stepped into the cafeteria and headed for their usual table, where the girls were already waiting.

"Hey," Scott said as he sank down next to Malia and leaned in to give her a quick kiss. When he went to pull away, her hand came up around the back of his head, pulling him back down and deepening it instead. He was happy to linger, never able to get enough of her, their audience forgotten until Lydia pointedly cleared her throat. Slowly, they broke apart, matching grins on their faces, and he had to fight the urge to kiss her again, that warm feeling in his chest burning bright, just like it did every time she kissed him. Or touched him. Or looked at him. Yeah, he had it bad.

"Hey yourself," she murmured, voice husky, eyes bright.

Across the table, Stiles snorted as he carefully unwrapped his sandwich. "All right, lovebirds, cool it. People are trying to eat."

Scott chuckled at that as he reached for his own lunch, missing the glares both girls shot at his best friend. As he dug in to his own sandwich, he felt Malia's hand settle on his leg, under the table, not moving or teasing, just sitting there, maintaining contact. He was pretty sure he knew what she was doing, and why she was doing it. It was the same reason he'd awoken to find her wrapped around him, why on the drive in, she'd grabbed his hand and hadn't let go until they got to school. She'd been worried about him after the fight, even though he was okay, his wounds healed, and that manifested as a need to touch him, to reassure herself that he was fine. And he didn't mind in the least. Whatever she needed.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Stiles asked around a mouthful of egg salad. "You gonna come watch us practice again?"

Lydia smirked, shaking her head. "Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "We've got plans. We're out of here as soon as that last bell rings."

"Oh?" Brow slightly furrowed, Scott looked at Malia, a little surprised to see her frowning. "What are you two doing?"

"Studying," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I have a math test on Tuesday, and since I failed the last one, I need to do really good on this one."

"And I," Lydia chimed in, flashing them a winning smile, "great friend that I am, selflessly volunteered my time to help her reach that goal." Stiles snorted at that, earning himself a reproachful glare from his girlfriend. "What? It _is_ really nice of me."

"Yeah," Scott said, nodding as a teasing grin spread across his face. "And if that means you have a reason not to hang around here and watch practice, that's just a bonus, right?"

Scoffing, she waved her hand dismissively. "Like I need an excuse for that. Listen, guys, I love you both and I will happily watch every single game you play. But practice... I can think of about a million other things I'd rather watch or do." She shrugged. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Stiles said. "I feel the same way sometimes. Most of the time, actually. I'd skip it if I didn't think Coach would literally skin me alive tomorrow." Pausing, his expression turned contemplative, before he locked eyes with Scott and raised an eyebrow. "You know, we actually might be able to get out of it today. I bet you could convince him to run drills without us, y'know, to see how the rest of the team does with us not there. Tell him they need to find leadership from within or some crap. He'd eat that up. What do ya think? Night off sound good?"

"Ooh," Lydia interjected, "that reminds me! I want to do a movie night soon. You know, get everybody together at my house, eat entirely too much junk food, watch Stiles and Liam snip at each other like catty old ladies."

Grinning, Stiles pointed at his girlfriend, nodding vigorously. "Sounds pretty fun, right? And I've already got the movies picked out."

Eyes narrowed, Scott looked from his best friend to Lydia and back again, wary. That suggestion had come too smoothly from both of them to be random. "Let me guess. Star Wars?" Stiles just shrugged, his grin growing even wider. Rolling his eyes, he looked back to Lydia and raised an eyebrow. "You two have been dating for like two weeks and you're already ganging up on me? Traitor."

She rolled her eyes. "You should have watched those movies years ago. This is on you."

"That's what I keep telling him." Smirking, Stiles slapped his hands down on the table-top, then held them up and tilted his head slightly, raising his eyebrows. "What do you think? Movie night instead of practice? I mean, you'd have to reschedule your study session, Malia, but—"

"Let's do it," she quickly interjected, waving her hand dismissively. "Math can wait. This is more important."

Scott turned to face her, an amused smile twisting his lips. "You told me you hated Star Wars. 'The most boring crap I've ever been forced to watch'. I think those were your exact words."

Malia shrugged, ignoring the offended look Stiles shot her. "I hate math more."

Letting out a snort, he shook his head, then hooked an arm over her shoulders and leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sorry," he murmured, fighting a grin at the way her face fell, going from hopeful to what he would almost call a pout. "Some other night." Leaning back in his chair, he faced the others. "Captain's gotta be there, man. You can skip if you want to, but I can't. And I was thinking about dropping in on Deaton afterwards, seeing if knows more about this wolfsbane. Argent and Derek were a little vague this morning." Seeing their disappointed expressions, he pursed his lips and shrugged. "If you guys want to get together without me, I don't mind."

"No," Malia immediately stated, shaking her head.

"She's right," Stiles said, nodding despite the frown on his face. "Wouldn't be the same without you. If you're going to practice, so am I. We'll pick another night."

"Yeah," Lydia chimed in. "Kinda defeats the purpose of getting everybody together if you're not there."

"Fair enough."

The group faded into silence then as everybody focused on their food. Scott was just finishing his up when he felt his phone go off. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out, the movement drawing everybody's eyes to him. "It's Argent," he said, frowning as he opened the message.

— _may have found lead, meet us in the parking lot_

"What does he want?" Stiles asked, leaning forward, elbows on the table.

"He's here right now. At the school." That drew surprised looks from the rest of the table. "He says he might have a lead. Come on." Leaning back, Scott grabbed his garbage and rose, hoisting his backpack up on his shoulder. He waited for Malia to get up, then followed her toward the door, only pausing to dump his trash.

Together, the four of them quickly made their way out to the parking lot. Argent's SUV was parked at the far end of the lot, where the teachers usually parked, and as they approached, Scott saw both him and Parrish sitting inside, watching them. When they were close, the doors opened and both men got out, rounding the nose of the car and meeting them there.

"Scott," Argent said, nodding to everybody, as Parrish held up a hand in greeting.

"Hey. You found something?"

The former hunter nodded. "Yeah, I think so." Reaching inside his jacket, he drew out a single sheet of lined paper and unfolded it. Holding it up, he let them all look it over, taking in the dozen or so addresses written on it in pen, the script tiny and neat.

Reaching out, Scott took the paper and gave it another quick look-over. "You found this where they were staying?"

"Yeah. It was empty. They must have cleared out last night or early this morning. We found the remnants of a small fire where they burned all their garbage. Trying not to leave any traces for anyone to find." He gestured to the paper. "Found that under a desk. They must've missed it."

"What is it?" Malia asked, eyes narrowed as she looked at the list over Scott's shoulder.

"Houses?" Stiles guessed, lips pursed.

"Yes. Houses that have all been listed for sale. As far as we can tell, they're all properties that have been on the market for longer than six months. We've only taken a closer look at three of them, but two of those have something in common. They're empty. The owners already moved out."

"They're looking for places to squat."

Argent nodded at Lydia. "That was our thought too. The place they were staying in was an old warehouse. Roomy, but a little light on amenities. Like beds or a properly functioning toilet." Tapping the list, he shrugged. "Any of these would be an improvement. Unfortunately, it takes time to check this many places, especially when we can't just break in and look. We'll have to surveil them first, so we don't end up walking into one and finding a pissed off werewolf waiting for us."

Taking one last look at the list, Scott passed it back. "Is that the plan then, to check these all out this afternoon?"

"Yes." Refolding the paper, he slid it back inside his jacket as he nodded. "Parrish has to go to work, but I called Derek and he's gonna come with me. And before you say it," he added, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, "we're not gonna do anything rash. Observe only. We both understand how dangerous this guy is."

"Good." Scott's expression was set, serious as he looked the former hunter directly in the eyes. "Whatever you find, you bring it back to me. We all go in together or not at all. It's too dangerous otherwise. So text me if you find anything, all right?"

"What about during practice?" Stiles asked as Argent nodded.

"Text me," Malia offered. "Or Lydia. If anything crops up, send me a message, and we'll come pick these two up and meet you."

"Okay, sounds like a plan."

Lifting a hand in farewell, Argent looked around at each of them, then turned on his heel and got back inside his SUV. The four of them watched silently as he started the engine and drove off, only speaking again once he disappeared from sight.

"Any excuse to get out of studying, huh?" Scott murmured softly, shooting Malia a little grin as they turned back toward the school. That earned him an elbow in the side, drawing a chuckle from him as he reached out and took her hand in his.

Just as they reached the door, the bell signalling the end of lunch rang, prompting Stiles to groan loudly and hang his head. "It feels like lunch gets a little shorter every day," he moaned, as Lydia rolled her eyes and patted his back gently.

"Look at the bright side," she said, as she reached out and opened the door. "You're that much closer to practice now." Stiles let out another piteous groan at that, almost drowning out her laughter as he led the way inside.

Before Scott could interject himself into the conversation, he felt Malia give his hand an insistent tug. He shot her a bemused smile, but didn't resist as she pulled him off to the side, away from their friend, into a small alcove that provided a little privacy from the other students clogging the hallway. Backing up against the wall, she grabbed his other hand and pulled him in close. Grinning, he quickly leaned in, sinking into a long, lingering kiss, blocking out the sounds of all the people steaming past.

"What was that for?" he asked when they broke apart, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he looked at her through heavily-lidded eyes.

"A taste," she replied, mirroring his expression. "If I'm not gonna see you again until tonight, I'm gonna make the most of our time together right now. Didn't think you'd mind."

"Definitely not," he murmured, happily leaning back in and losing himself in her again. If he was a couple minutes late to class, so be it. That was a sacrifice he'd make every day if he had to. Unfortunately, it couldn't last forever, and all too soon, he reluctantly broke the kiss and took a half-step back. Catching her eye, he blew out a amused breath and shook his head. "Don't know how I'm gonna be able to concentrate in class after that."

"Why?" she asked, an impish grin on her face. "Do I distract you?"

"Only all the time."

She let out a throaty little laugh, then pulled him back in, claiming his mouth once again. He didn't resist as she flipped their positions, turning them around and pushing him back against the wall. He was so far gone at that point, so focused on her, an earthquake probably wouldn't have registered.

Eventually, Malia pulled away, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as they both fought to catch their breath. "All right," she said, after a moment, raising her head to look at him. "We really need to get to class. Much more of this and I'll be dragging you into the nearest bathroom and finding out exactly how much fun we can have in one of those stalls."

"I don't know," he said through a grin, throwing an arm over her shoulders as they stepped back out into the hallway. "Those things are kinda small. But I guess I am pretty flexible."

"Stop giving me ideas."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"I'm gonna go wait by your jeep," Scott threw over his shoulder as he headed for the door. Stiles, still wearing the clothes he'd had on for practice, raised a hand in acknowledgement, eyes never leaving his phone.

Stepping outside, he paused for a second and inhaled deeply, letting the cool night air push the unpleasant remnants of post-practice locker room odour out of his nose. He took a moment to look up at the star-filled sky, at the nearly-full moon hanging there, then sighed and started toward the parking lot. Pulling out his phone as he walked, he frowned when he saw his only new message was from his mom, asking when he'd be home. He'd hoped Argent would have gotten back to him by now, with good news or bad. Pausing again as he rounded the corner of the school, he looked back up at the moon, a visual reminder of just how vital it was they handle the situation quickly.

As he was texting his mom back, he suddenly picked up a familiar scent on the breeze and had to fight to keep the smile off his face. Keeping his eyes on his phone, he played dumb, humming softly to himself, even as he listened for the soft, barely audible footsteps slowly creeping up behind him. He let her get almost close enough to touch him before he spoke.

"I'm not easy to sneak up on."

Malia let out a disappointed sigh as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, locking her hands over his stomach. "Damn supernatural senses," she murmured, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he leaned back into her. "I wanted to surprise you."

"I _am_ surprised." Turning in the circle of her arms, he grinned and raised an eyebrow when their eyes met. "I didn't think you were coming. What happened to the study session with Lydia?"

"Ugh, we did study. We studied until my eyes ached and my brain hurt. If I never see another equation again, it'll be too soon." He huffed out an amused breath at that, as her hands crept up his chest and hooked over his shoulders. "So I told her I was leaving, figured I'd give you a ride to the clinic. She didn't really put up too much of a fight. Pretty sure she was texting Stiles before I made it out the door."

Scott pursed his lips. "Well, that explains why it was taking him so long to—"

His words were lost then as she abruptly locked her fingers behind his head, leaned in, and pressed her lips to his. He was more than happy to immediately lose himself in the kiss, his arms going around her, pulling her flush against him. Suddenly the last thing on his mind was the lack of news from Argent. That, the Cobbs, Peter, it was all buried, pushed to the side in favour of enjoying, revelling in the taste, the feel of the intoxicating girl in his arms.

"So here's what I'm thinking," she said softly after they broke apart, both a little breathless, eyes bright, hearts racing. "We go talk to Deaton. Then, we grab some food, head back to your place, maybe watch a movie, and... see what happens." Locking eyes with him, she flashed him a suggestive smile, her fingers absently playing in the hair above the back of his neck. "What was it you said this morning? Something like 'to be continued'?"

He grinned and let out a throaty chuckle. "Yeah, I believe that was it." He couldn't contain the jolt of anticipation that shot through him at the hungry look on her face, and came back in for another kiss, slanting his lips hungrily over hers.

They were interrupted then, before hands could wander too far, as the locker room door banged open and the team started to emerge. Breaking apart reluctantly, they shared a quick, heated look, then started moving, heading for the parking lot, hand in hand. They kept near the fence, letting everybody else stream past them, Scott keeping his eyes peeled for Stiles. When he didn't spot his friend, he pulled Malia to a stop and drew his phone back out of his pocket.

"Letting Stiles know I'm leaving with you," he explained when she shot him a questioning look.

As he sent his message, she settled back against the fence next to him, watching everybody walk by. "Anything from Argent?" she asked quietly as the last few reached their cars.

He sighed. "No, nothing. Which probably means it was another dead end." Scrolling to the man's name, he texted him a question mark, then shook his head as he put his phone away. "Fingers crossed it wasn't, but my hopes? Not exactly flying high at the moment." Raising a hand, he rubbed at his forehead, feeling a sudden ache there as the reality of the situation set back in. "We gotta find them, both of them, if we want any chance at dealing with Bryan before he goes all Incredible Hulk on Beacon Hills. I don't want—"

"Hey." His words died as she swung around to face him, her hand coming up to gently cup the side of his face. "We'll deal with it, Scott. We always do. It's what we do. We'll find them." He could see the intensity burning behind her eyes, the absolute faith she had in the pack, in him, and couldn't stop the little smile from forming on his face. "Okay?"

"Yeah," he said softly, as he leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers. "Yeah, we will." Sliding his hand over hers, he let it linger for a second, then pressed a kiss to her palm, and stepped back. "Let's get going."

Side by side, they continued on into the parking lot, which was nearly empty now. Only a few cars remained, Malia's parked over near Stiles' jeep. It was quiet, only the normal sounds of night disrupting the silence, accompanied by their footsteps and the beating of their hearts.

"How do you feel about pizza?" she asked as they approached the car. "'Cause I've got a craving."

"Sounds good. Meat lover's?"

She scoffed. "Did you seriously just ask me that? Of course. Is there any other kind?"

"Hawaiian's pretty good."

"Ugh, no. Pineapple?" She pulled a face, shuddering dramatically, as he fought to keep from laughing. "No. Gross."

"Fair enough." He waited a beat. "I've always been a fan of veggie pizzas. Y'know, mushrooms, peppers, onions. Who needs pepperoni, right?"

Pausing, she turned to face him, arching an eyebrow. "Are you trying to make me mad?"

He shook his head, lips twitching as he desperately tried to keep a straight face. "Of course not. Why would I do that? It's not like I find it sexy when you get all worked up or anything. When your eyes start to flash, and you get that really intense look on your face, or when you start to get a little flushed right _here_." Reaching up, he brushed his thumb along the top of her cheek, finally losing the battle to his grin. "Nope, definitely don't like seeing that. Does _not_ turn me on, at all."

For a second, she just looked at him, and he could see the desire in her eyes, could hear it in the sudden increase in her heart rate. She opened her mouth, but instead of saying anything, she abruptly pushed him back against the side of the car, then followed him in, crushing her lips to his, hands pressing against his chest, pinning him there.

"Good to know," she said breathlessly when she pulled back, lips twisting into that little smile that was only for him. Then she slapped his chest and nodded toward the car. "Now let's go. I'm hungry."

Grinning, he shook his head as she made her way around to the driver's side, his eyes trailing after her, unable to look away even as he reached for the door handle. Just as she reached her own door, her eyes meeting his over the top of the car, Scott tensed, a familiar and unpleasant tingle suddenly running across the back of his neck.

"What?" she asked, brow furrowing at his sudden stillness, at the frustration and anger that clouded over his face, all the amusement, the desire from just a moment ago completely wiped away. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes widened a second later when he let out a low growl. "We're being watched again," he muttered as he turned and began scanning the surroundings, eyes glowing red in the dark.

Since the parking lot was so empty, it only took a second to confirm there was nobody hiding there, spying on them from behind a car. Which meant whoever the watcher was, they were either inside the school looking out, or somewhere over by the lacrosse field. Jaw clenched tight, Scott turned toward the field and began to move in that direction. He heard Malia fall into step behind him as they reached the bleachers and slowly stepped toward the entrance to the field.

Just as they reached the opening, Scott stopped in his tracks, nostrils flaring as he picked up a scent in the air, one he'd smelled before. Her hand fell on his shoulder in the next instant, and he turned toward her as she tapped her nose, eyes narrowed, questioning.

"Ashley," he said softly, barely more than a whisper. The scent was fresh, and close, which meant she was still there. Briefly, he wondered why she wasn't hiding this time, if she was indeed the one he'd been sensing all along. But curiosity took control before he could think on that too long, and he started forward again, Malia on his heels.

The field was empty, the lights off, the sprinklers not yet turned on. Ringed by bleachers on one side and trees on the rest, it turned the large space into almost an echo chamber. He could hear his own heart beat and hers, magnified by the silence as the crept forward. And there, just on the edge of his senses, another heart beat, not racing but not calm either, not scared or excited but maybe nervous. Halting, he closed his eyes and tilted his head, concentrated, trying to focus in on the third heart, pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Slowly, he turned to his right, back toward the bleachers, sound growing a little stronger.

Abruptly, Malia let out a growl, her fingers wrapping around his wrist, and he opened his eyes to find her staring up into the bleachers, hand lifted, pointing. "There!" She didn't whisper, didn't even attempt to keep her voice down. There was no need.

There was Ashley Cobb, slowly making her way down the steps toward the field, her eyes locked on them. As they watched, she slowly raised her arms in the universal sign for peace, gaze never wavering even when she stepped down onto the ground and started toward them.

Scott could feel Malia tensing up the closer she got to them, getting ready to strike first, and quickly folded his hand around hers, squeezing softly. "Don't." He kept his eyes on the approaching girl. "She's here for a reason. And," he added, dropping his voice so low he was sure only she would hear him. "It could be a trap." She hesitated for a second, then slowly squeezed back and took a deep, calming breath.

Ashley stopped about a dozen feet from them, standing rigid, hands still up, and for a moment, they all just stood there, looking at each other. She was tiny, Scott noted as he studied her closely, even shorter than Lydia or Kira. Up close, and now that he'd been personally introduced to Bryan, he could better differentiate between their scents, despite the extreme similarity, and what he smelled there actually put some of his worries to rest. There was none of the animistic rage her brother had, just some other emotion, feeling, something close to desperation colouring her scent. Whatever she'd come for, it wasn't a fight, which meant her brother most likely wasn't hiding somewhere, ready to leap out and get his revenge for being thrown out the window the previous night.

Eventually, the silence got to Malia. "What do you want?" she snarled, taking a half-step forward, teeth bared.

"I want to talk," Ashley replied, voice soft, cool, face giving nothing away as her eyes remained locked on Scott. "I wanted to talk to you alone, but you're _never_ alone." A hint of frustration bled into her tone then, her jaw briefly clenching before the impassive mask reappeared.

"You've been watching us?" She nodded once, curtly. "Why?" he asked softly, honestly curious.

For a second, she hesitated, and he could see the reluctance on her face, in the way she shifted her stance slightly, shoulders tensing as she leaned back ever so slightly. Then, slowly, she opened her mouth and said, "I need help. And I'm running out of time, so—"

She cut off there as a monstrous roar suddenly rang out from somewhere in the distance. Eyes wide, all three of them turned north as the sound—unmistakably the roar of an Alpha—echoed through the air, carried on the breeze, to every supernatural ear in town.

Scott could feel the hair on his neck and arms stand up straight, his whole body tensing reflexively as the sudden urge to roar back blazed through him. He was the Alpha. Beacon Hills was his territory. A guttural growl tore from his throat as the wolf in him reacted viscerally to the sound, the challenge, his face shifting, fangs descending in response. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him, urging him to find the pretender, to seek them out, to humble them.

"Scott!"

Malia's cry jarred him out of his trance, cutting through the wolf's rage, drawing him human once again. Shuddering violently, he doubled over and shook off the shift, hands clenching into tight fists, claws digging into his palms until they faded back into fingernails again.

"Are you okay?"

Her hands were on his shoulders, grasping, demanding, until he looked up at her and nodded. He could see the concern on her face, in her eyes, and tried to smile reassuringly as he straightened up. "I'm all right." Reaching up, he clasped his hands over hers and patted gently, then tilted his head back and blew out a heavy breath. "Holy shit, that was intense. I guess now we know what happens to an Alpha when another one roars. I— hey, where did she go?" Distracted by his own reaction, he hadn't immediately realised Ashley was no longer standing in the field.

"She took off." Malia pointed north. "Before it even stopped echoing. Just took off running. Should we follow her?"

He was already heading after her, moving toward the woods at the far end of the field. "Yes. You heard her. She wants our help, and she's gonna need if it she goes to him right now. You heard that, right?"

"I think the dead heard that, Scott," she said as she felt into step beside him.

"No, no, I mean, that was more than just a roar. It _was_ an Alpha roar, but there was something else." At her blank look, he frowned. "Pain. He's hurt. If we're lucky, that means he'll do what he did last night and run off to find a place to curl up and lick his wounds. But..."

"But when are we ever that lucky?"

"Exactly," he said grimly. "Still, this could be an opportunity. If he's really hurt, we might be able to—"

Scott's phone suddenly going off interrupted his train of thought just as they reached the edge of the field. Letting out an annoyed growl, he stopped short and pulled it out, expecting to see Liam's number. He knew his Beta would have heard the roar, and would have questions. But instead, it was Derek calling.

"Yeah?"

"Scott." He felt his heart drop at the way Derek said his name, an urgent whisper cut through with a hint of pain. "We're in trouble."

"Oh, God. Derek, please tell me you didn't run into Bryan Cobb."

"I wish I could." He paused as a growl suddenly rang out, slightly muffled but close. When he came back on the line, his voice was even quieter, barely audible. "Argent and I were checking out one of the properties. It was empty, but I guess they decided to squat in a house across the street. We didn't even see him coming."

Meeting Malia's eyes, Scott's jaw clenched, fear for his friends springing up inside him, mirrored in her expression. "Are you all right?"

"I'll live," was the short reply. "We ran, he chased, ended up wrecking into a telephone pole." Again he cut off briefly, another muffled growl coming through, thankfully no closer than the first. "I took a chunk out of him, but I couldn't put him down. We had to hide. We're holed up in the old bakery on Eighth Street. You know it?"

"Yeah. Hold tight, man. We're coming." Even as he spoke, he was already jogging back toward the parking lot, Malia at his side.

"Hurry. I don't—Argent is..."

He stumbled over his own feet then, nearly falling as fear spiked through him at the concern, the uncertainty in Derek's voice. Only Malia's hand on his arm, keeping him steady, kept him up, moving. "Argent is what?"

A sigh. "He's hurt. I'm not sure exactly how bad, but it's not good. I think he's bleeding out. If we don't get out of here soon..."

"We're coming, Derek. Hold on."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

The car was still moving when Scott opened the door and jumped out, sprinting down the street toward the bakery. He heard Malia shout his name, but ignored her, focused on getting to Argent, to Derek, to make sure they were okay.

He'd spent the entire ride drumming his fingers anxiously against his knee, playing through vividly disturbing scenarios in his head. Arriving too late, finding Argent and Derek both dead. Arriving just as Bryan broke through to them, and being too slow to intervene, to save them. Watching them get torn to shreds, unable to help. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster the entire time, the wolf inside howling to be let out. Only Malia's hand resting on the center console, absently brushing his arm as she fought to contain her own emotions kept him grounded. He'd used that little bit of physical contact as a focus point, not enough to calm him, but enough to keep him from completely losing it.

By some stroke of luck, the street was empty, a part of his mind noting the lack of light coming from the primarily commercial buildings as he raced past them. Under different circumstances, he would have been happy to know the risk of innocent people getting caught up in the fight was minimal. Tonight, it was barely an afterthought.

As he neared the bakery, he slowed slightly, finally allowing himself to shift as he scanned the area for the threat. He could smell the massive werewolf all over the place, intermixed with Argent's blood, and a bitter odour it took him a second to identify as gun smoke.

Baring his fangs, he let out a loud growl, the guttural sound echoing off the surrounding buildings eerily, an invitation to Bryan to come out, to face him. In that moment, he didn't care that he'd already faced the wolf and come out worse off, that in terms of raw strength, he was over-matched. He was running on instincts, the urge to protect his friends, his pack mixing with the Alpha urge to conquer a rival, a challenger. He heard Malia's answering growl as she jogged up behind him, and stood straighter. Their eyes met as she stopped next to him, red staring into blue and seeing resolve there, and maybe even a hint of anticipation.

The sudden sound of a door opening caught them both off-guard, and they turned, claws coming up, ready for a fight. But it was just Derek, standing in the bakery doorway, supporting a pale, bloody, but conscious Argent. Scott felt relief surge through him when the former hunter flashed him a quick thumbs up, but it was brief, as a low-pitched growl suddenly rang out, drawing his attention away.

The attack came quick, violent, Bryan's hulking form exploding out of an alley next to the bakery and streaking toward him. They split, leaping in opposite directions to avoid his attack, backing up and circling back to each other in front of the bakery as he skidded up onto the curb, claws tearing into a mailbox, keeping him upright. He was bloody, Scott noted, as the other Alpha whirled to face them. Two deep gashes had been carved into his chest, a third running diagonally across his twisted, barely-human face. Derek's work. But what really caught his attention was the way he was holding his right arm, stiffly, close to his body. No claw marks. Argent's work, maybe. Either way, a weakness, something to focus on.

"His arm," he rasped, directing Malia's attention to the injury. "Draw him to the left."

She immediately darted forward, quicker than the towering shifter, ducking under his good arm and raking her claws over one of his open wounds. Roaring in pain, he reached for her, but she drew back, slashing again at his hand as she avoided being grabbed, circling left. Blinded by pain and the imminent threat, he turned with her, focused on her, momentarily forgetting they weren't alone.

Seeing his opening, Scott raced forward and grabbed the injured arm, twisting it hard, forcing it back and up as he stepped past him, drawing an enraged roar from his opponent. Bryan immediately turned toward him, grabbing at the back of his shirt with his free hand. But that left him open to Malia, who came in snarling and left a trail of bloody claw marks across the back of his good arm. Instinctively, he reached for her again, and Scott seized the opportunity, violently wrenching the bad arm again. Growling, he forced it back until he heard a pop and felt the limb go limp in his grasp. The sudden pain drove Bryan to his knees, the noise that escape his mouth more of a whine than anything else.

Pressing his advantage, Scott switched his grip, his right hand grasping the wrist to maintain the pressure as he slid behind Bryan and wrapped his left arm around the wolf's thick neck. Claws pierced flesh, not deep, just enough to keep him anchored as he sank in the choke, immediately prompting a faint gurgle from his opponent.

"Stop!"

It was just a momentary distraction, a shout and a flash of movement off to his right, but for a brief second, his focus was disturbed. He had about half a second to identify Ashley pounding down the street toward them before he was suddenly driven back down onto the concrete, all of Bryan's weight coming down on him, driving the air out of his lungs, breaking his grip. Malia let out an angry shriek and attacked again as the other Alpha rose, providing enough of a distraction for Scott to scramble to his feet, away from danger, before he could take a hit to his unprotected back.

"You can't kill him!" Ashley's voice was shrill, sharp, like nails on a chalkboard as she grabbed his shoulders and shook him. Eyes wide, full of fear for her brother, stared into his, pleading. "It's not his fault!"

"We're not trying to kill him!" he grated out as he pushed her away, turning back to the fight. "We're trying to hurt him enough to stop him before _he_ kills somebody else! _Malia_!"

A swinging blow caught her directly in the side, sending her crashing to the ground. Snarling, Scott started forward, only to stop short, changing directions as Ashley darted past him and engaged with her brother. Going to Malia instead, he hauled her up off the ground and quickly backed away, supporting her with an arm around her waist as the two siblings began to circle each other.

"Bryan." Scott was a little impressed she was able to make her voice so calm considering the piercing tone she'd taken with him. "Bryan, it's me. It's Ashley. You need to calm down. It's okay." As she spoke, she slowly raised and lowered her hands, careful not to make any sharp movements.

For a brief second, he really thought he was about to see a murder. Fangs bared, his functioning arm up with claws extending, Bryan didn't have the slightest trace of recognition on his face as he looked at his sister. He was leaning forward slightly, aggressively glaring at her, in much the same way he seemed to look at everybody. She kept up a continuous stream of softly-spoken, soothing words, as they continued to circle, but there was a tension in the air, and to his eyes, they were about a second away from blood being spilled. But then, a miracle.

"Ash?"

His voice was distorted, so rough it barely qualified as human. But when she nodded, a smile breaking out on her face, Bryan suddenly shuddered violently, and Scott watched as a spark of humanity, of awareness flared to life in the depths of his eyes. His face started to twist, features softening slightly, still bestial, but edging closer to human. When she cautiously stepped forward and raised a shaking hand to his cheek, he flinched back, but didn't lash out.

Afraid to disturb the moment, and potentially re-trigger the other Alpha, Scott stood very still, barely blinking. Malia did the same, both of them holding their breath as Ashley tried again, this time successfully touching her brother's face.

"It's okay," she said again, even softer this time. "You're okay. Nobody's gonna hurt you. Nobody's gonna hurt me. Come back, Bryan. Just come back."

As his features continued to move, shift, looking more and more human by the second, Bryan's eyes moved from his sister and over to them. Confusion briefly flashed across his face, followed by realisation, then what Scott could only call self-loathing as he took in the way Malia was clutching her ribs. Slowly, he looked down at this hands, trembling and still tipped by vicious claws. Then, before anybody could stop him, or react at all, he abruptly whirled around and ran off, disappearing into the darkness, leaving his sister staring after him, a heart-broken look on her face.

The threat gone, the tension in the air suddenly cracked, and Scott slumped, only the knowledge he'd be dragging Malia down with him if he fell keeping him on his feet. He felt her arm go around him then and squeeze as she let out the breath she'd been holding and leaned her head against his shoulder.

They'd survived again, had come oh so close to maybe winning. But there was no relief at living, no satisfaction or triumph. Not even disappointment that he'd allowed himself to be distracted and missed his opportunity. Just a bone-deep sadness for two people caught in miserable circumstances, having their lives torn away from them, and now on the brink of losing each other too.

"Hey," he called softly, and Ashley slowly turned toward him, eyes glassy and movements jerky, mechanical, like she was moving on autopilot. "We have a plan to stop him, okay? But it's gonna take some time. If you can keep him under control for a few days, we think may be able to... do something for him. Ashley!" His sharp exclamation seemed to get through to her, as she gave herself a little shake, eyes clearing slightly. "We have a plan. We're gonna help. You're not alone."

Slowly, she nodded, a sad little smile forming on her face. "Thank you," she whispered. "I—thank you. I—I'm sorry he hurt you."

"It's nothing," he replied. "You were right. It's not his fault."

"Yeah." Straightening up, Malia grimaced briefly, then scoffed, waving away her concern. "It doesn't even hurt that bad. Don't worry about it."

She smiled again, more genuine this time, before she looked back down the street, where Bryan had gone. "Go," Scott said when she hesitated. "Go find him, help him. Find us tomorrow and we'll tell you our plan. Go."

"Thank you." With that, she was gone, jogging off into the night.

"Oh, thank God." Malia immediately sank back against him, hand going to her side. "Next person who hits me in the ribs is dead. I don't even care anymore. This _really_ hurts."

"Says the girl who walked off a gut-shot a couple months ago," he murmured, keeping his arm around her waist as they turned and started back toward the bakery.

"More than one. And this is worse," she stated, as he chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

When they reached the curb, they were met by Derek and Argent, emerging from the doorway now that the fight was over. Up close, the former hunter looked bad, extremely pale, his left leg just a mass of blood. "I'm okay," he said as both pairs paused, looking each other over. His voice was strained, weak, but his eyes were clear. "You two?"

"We'll live," Scott replied, as Malia pulled away from his side and nodded. "At least one more day, anyway."

Argent snorted at that, then winced and clutched at his side. There was a rip in his jacket there, blood trickling from the ragged wound. "Ow. Don't make me laugh, please."

Scott ignored his words, eyes focused on the man's wounds. "Did you get bit?"

"No." Derek shook his head, and again relief flooded Scott's mind. "Wasn't even scratched. Half of his wounds are from when we hit the telephone pole. And the rest are from being thrown into things. You're lucky, Argent."

"Yeah, I really feel lucky."

"All right," Scott said, drawing their attention back to him. "Malia's car is down the street. Come on, let's get you to the hospital. I'll call my mom, tell her to meet us there."

"Scott, don't—"

"Shut up," Malia said, cutting him off. "Don't be dumb. She'd want to know."

"Yeah. She'll kill you _and_ me if she finds out we didn't tell her," Scott added, as the four of them started down the street. For a moment, they walked in silence, before he shook his head and sighed. "We need that wolfsbane. If this keeps up, he's gonna kill one of us. Or more than one of us."

"I'm trying, Scott." Argent grimaced and shook his head. "It's not an easy thing to find. I put the word out to some people I know, told them I'm looking to buy, and they're gonna get back to me. But it's going to take some time. I'm sorry."

"I'll reach out to some people too," Derek said. "Maybe Peter knows somebody. I know you don't want him—"

Scott cut him off with a raised hand. "I don't care. If you think he can help, use him. Do what you have to do," he said solemnly, frowning. "Because we have to end this soon. For everybody's sake."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _I'm having a lot of trouble finding the balance between the fluff and the rest of this story the longer it goes. I started writing this for the fluff, and then the other elements got added just to keep things interesting, and now it's all just a mess of both. I don't know. I kind of wrote myself into a corner by adding some of the crap I did, but it's too late to go back now. Whatever. Hopefully you enjoyed this one. Let me know either way._


	12. 12

**12**

Leaning back in his chair, Scott looked up at his ceiling and exhaled slowly, focusing on the sound of water running in the next room to try and center his turbulent thoughts. He tried to focus on the familiar surroundings of his room, the scents of home, to calm a mind that had been racing for hours.

The night had been a stressful mixture of frenetic motion and anxious inactivity. On the way to the hospital, Argent abruptly passed out, leaving them all scrambling to help. They'd done what they could to try and stop the bleeding as Malia broke every traffic law on record, unsure of exactly how bad he was hurt. Melissa was waiting for them in the parking lot when they arrived, and she quickly took charge, getting the former hunter up and into surgery. And everything hit the wall then, all the built-up adrenaline from the fight, from the fear left to slowly bleed out as they sat and waited for good news, any news.

Other than brief distractions in the form of a worried calls from Liam and Lydia, Scott spent the time sitting rigid in his chair, staring blankly, his thoughts in turmoil. Worry, fear for his friend mixed with frustration and more than a little doubt, and with no outlet, it all just kept going around and around in his head, adding to the stress, wearing him down. Only Malia's comforting presence at his side kept him from tearing his own hair out. Finally, after hours, Melissa had passed on the word that things were going well, that Argent was out of the woods after a few small complications. He was going to be fine.

With that one less worry pressing on him, he'd taken the opportunity to get outside, out into the parking lot, into the cool night air, hoping for a little peace. But Derek had followed him out, having spent most of the wait on his phone, telling him he was still trying but so far, nobody had any information on the wolfsbane.

At that point, mentally exhausted and beaten down, the powerful urge to just scream, to do something, _anything_ had been nearly overwhelming. Fortunately, they'd been joined then by Malia and Melissa, who took one look at him and insisted he go home, get some food, get some sleep. It had taken all three of them to convince him staying at the hospital wasn't doing anybody any good, and once Derek promised to stay with his mom, he'd given in and let Malia take him home.

After a long, scalding hot shower, he'd taken refuge in his chair, while Malia took his place in the bathroom. The same doubts and worries plaguing him all night were still there, racing around, questioning his commitment to the plan, his guilt over Argent's injuries, his intense frustration at having to wait and hope somebody would come through with the wolfsbane because the only other option in his back pocket was one he didn't even want to consider.

Lost in his thoughts, Scott barely reacted when Malia emerged from the bathroom and crossed the room to him. It was only when she dropped down on his lap, straddling his legs, that he looked up, meeting her eyes, and flashing her strained smile.

As she settled into the chair with him, hands hooking loosely over his shoulders, she studied his face closely, frowning at whatever she saw there. "What's wrong?" she asked softly, fingers absently playing in his hair.

"Nothing. How're the ribs?"

"Sore," she replied. "And don't lie to me, Scott. What's up?"

He shook his head slowly. "Just thinking." His hands moved to her hips, resting there as he pursed his lips, then sighed. "We need another plan. If we can't get our hands on some of the wolfsbane, we need another option. The next time we come up against Bryan, I want to be able to put this to rest. I don't..." He trailed off, a sad smile twisting his lips as he ghosted a hand over her side. "I don't want to see you get hurt again. I don't, uh... I _really_ don't like that."

For a second, she just looked down into his eyes, face unreadable. "You know I'm fine, right? I didn't even bleed. By morning, I'll be back to normal."

"I know, I know. And I know how strong you are." He grinned as he reached up to gently cup the side of her face. "Believe me, there's nobody I'd rather have next to me in a fight. And it's not just you. I don't want to see _anybody_ get hurt. But with you..."

Her expression softened, and she slowly nodded, covering his hand with her own. "I get it. Things are different now."

Scott smiled at the reminder of their exchange from the previous night. "Yeah, they are. Come here."

At his invitation, she leaned in for a long, slow kiss, pushing him back into the chair, fingers tangling in his hair. Closing his eyes, he focused on her, on the feel of her lips moving over his, on her warmth, her weight pressing down on him. All he could smell was her, fresh from the shower, her shampoo, everything about her that combined to make the scent that was utterly, undeniably _Malia_. It all made his head swim in the best possible way, made it impossible to think about anything else but her, about being as close to her as he could get. He did his best to do just that, wrapping his arms around her tight, crushing her against him.

When they broke apart, she slowly pulled back, a smile on her face at the dazed look in his eyes. "That's a good look on you," she murmured.

"What?" he asked, grinning up at her. "Drunk on you?"

"No. Well, yeah. But that's not what I meant." At his questioning look, she brought her hands to his face, gently framing it. "Happy. Not worried. You start thinking about things and your whole face just clouds over, and I don't like it. See, there it goes again."

Reaching up, he grasped both of her wrists loosely and shrugged. "Sorry. Burden of leadership, I guess. I worry about things so the rest of you don't have to."

"Except we do." Leaning down, she touched her forehead against his and huffed out a breath that was half amused, half exasperated. "You can't—Scott, that's just not something you can do. It's not something _anybody_ can do. When you're worried, we are too. About the same things. And about you, what you're gonna do to try and keep everybody safe." He opened his mouth to respond, to tell her that was exactly what he was trying to avoid, but she stopped him short with a finger against his lips and a shake of her head. "And that's _fine_. That's why we're strong. Because we can share that weight. It doesn't have to fall too heavy on any of us. It doesn't all have to fall on _you_."

For a second, he was silent, staring up at her, at the serious set of her face. He bit back the initial urge to shake off her words, to insist that it did fall on him, that it was the leader's job to take all that on, because looking at her, it abruptly hit him just how insulting that would be. Demeaning, in a way, to how his friends felt, what they felt, what they did for him, for each other.

"I know," he said instead, softly. "Hard to avoid sometimes though. Like now." Pausing, he sighed, frustration settling on his features. "We need a back-up plan, but I can't even think of where to start looking. And I kinda doubt Derek or Argent or Deaton have been holding out on us, y'know? So where does that leave us? We're two nights away from a full moon, with a plan that hinges entirely on getting our hands on something that's apparently impossible to find."

"Yeah, it's not great."

He snorted. "You can say that again. I just..." He trailed off, shaking his head, a tic in his jaw working overtime as he clenched his teeth. "I need _something_ , y'know? Something to convince me I'm actually _doing_ something. Tomorrow, Ashley's going to come to us and I'm going to have to tell her our only real plan is completely up in the air. And if that doesn't come through, the only other option we have right now is killing him before he hurts anybody else." Even as he said the words, his face screwed up in distaste, just voicing the concept leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

For a second, Malia was quiet, watching him closely, considering. Then, slowly, "Why are you so against it?" Honest curiosity shone in her eyes, even as she hastened to add, "I'm not saying we should or anything. Just, he's dangerous, out of control. Even in a best-case scenario, we're going to get hurt. Worst case..."

As she trailed off, Scott let his head fall back and pursed his lips, staring at a tiny water stain on his ceiling. It wasn't a topic he liked talking about, mostly because it was one he was constantly struggling with in his head. Not just now, with Bryan Cobb on the loose, but every time they came up against some new enemy, a threat to them, to the city. The desire, the need to protect everybody, that base urge to defend his territory, his pack violently, with finality, was always warring with the human part of him, the part that detested the thought of ending another life when there was even a sliver of hope for a better way.

"Because," he finally said, voice soft as he looked back to her, meeting her gaze, "I don't want to be that kind of leader. I want to _help_ people, not hurt them. And I know that's not always going to be possible. But if there's a chance, I have to try."

"Okay." She bit her lip, then raised an eyebrow. "Devil's advocate?" He nodded, gestured for her to go ahead. "He killed someone, Scott."

"He did, and that's... that's awful. But he's not a _killer_. Not really. He's just a kid stuck in a shitty situation beyond his control. This isn't like anything else we've come up against. Peter, Deucalion, the Beast, everybody else... they _chose_ to be monsters. They chose to use violence and terror and death as weapons to get what they wanted. And I still did everything I could to stop them all without having to kill them." Clenching his jaw, he gestured aimlessly with his hands, searching for the words to make his point as clear as possible. "Bryan is... he's dangerous, a threat. I'm not trying to say he isn't. But he's not the same as they were. He didn't wake up one day and decide to start doing awful shit. He didn't choose this. And to me, that makes a massive difference. But he's not like some rabid dog that needs to be put down either. That's just... he's human still, underneath it all. He comes back. Things might be different, _maybe_ , if he was completely gone..."

The uncompleted thought hung between them for a moment after he trailed off. "But he's not," Malia finished for him.

He flashed her a tight-lipped smile and nodded wearily. "He's not." Running a hand through his hair, he sighed heavily, the weight of everything almost like a physical burden on his shoulders. "Maybe I'm being stupid. I don't know. If he hurts one of us, _kills_ one of us, I'm gonna have to carry that for the rest of my life. But if I make that call, if I decide he has to die, that's going to hang over me instead. It's a lose-lose. And I don't..." Trailing off, he slowly shook his head, eyes finding hers and freezing there. "When it comes down to it, as bad as this could go, I will bet on us, on you and Lydia and Stiles and Argent every single time. I know it's a risk, but it's one I have to take because I trust that we can figure this out. I _have_ to."

Silence reigned in the room then as they stared at each other, him desperately trying to show her with his eyes, his expression just how important this was to him. Looking back, she studied his face closely, her own features contemplative.

"You've really thought about this, huh?" she finally said, after a moment.

"Just a little bit."

Again, quiet fell between them, and Scott smiled slightly as her hand found his, gripped it tight. Slowly, he began tracing his thumb over her knuckles, looking down at their joined hands as he ordered his thoughts. Now that he'd moved past his initial reluctance, he found it felt good to finally say his piece, explain how he felt to somebody, articulate things in a way he'd never tried before.

"Ever since I got bit," he said slowly, the words initially halting but growing smoother, stronger, more focused as he picked up steam, "my life has been all about violence. Not just in what I've had to deal with, but in what I've seen. People like us... their lives always seem to revolve around fighting, either for something or against something. Friends, foes, it doesn't matter. It just seems inevitable, y'know? And I know, eventually, I'm going to have to cross some of the lines I've drawn. But now, while there's still a chance of another way, I've gotta try. Because one day, there won't be, and on that day, I want that choice to be nearly impossible. I don't _ever_ want the option of ending a life to be an easy one. And maybe that day is today. Maybe that's how this ends. I don't know. But if I give in when there's even the slightest hope, it'll be easier to do it again the next time. And I _can't_ let that happen."

It was only after he paused that he realised he was breathing heavily, the emotional impact of finally getting his thoughts out in the open taking a physical toll. Avoiding her gaze for a second, he took a deep, calming breath, trying to relax a little, to get his heart rate back down to normal.

"Sorry," he muttered a moment later, flashing her a half-hearted grin he was sure looked more like a grimace. "I just... I don't talk about this much, so when I do, I guess I get a little carried away." His smile turned self-deprecating. "Is this the part where you tell me I'm being an idiot?"

Malia let out a little huff and shook her head, as her free hand came up, fingers brushing against his temple before sliding down to cup his face. "Is that what you want?" she asked softly, eyes locked on his.

"Do I want my girlfriend to call me stupid?" His lips twitched, eyebrow arching. "Not particularly."

She grinned. "Good. Because I won't. You know me, Scott. If I thought you were screwing up, I'd tell you." He couldn't help but chuckle at that, nodding as she dropped her hand, pressing her palm flat to his chest, over his heart. "Do you know why we all follow you?"

"Lack of better options?"

Rolling her eyes, she smacked his chest, drawing a grin from him. "Smart ass. We follow you because you always try to do the right thing. Even when it's frustrating as hell. Because we see what you're trying to do, and we know you've always got our backs. So we accept the risk, because we believe in each other, and we believe in you." Pausing, she smiled as he clasped his hand over hers. "You're not a perfect leader, but—"

"No kidding," he interrupted, shaking his head. "I'm so far from that it—"

"Hey." She squeezed his hand hard, cutting him off. "Just shut up for a minute and listen to me." She met his gaze and held it, glaring, until he flashed her a faint smile. "You're not perfect, Scott, but you try so hard, harder than anybody else I've ever met. And that makes me want to try harder too, y'know? Because I tried to do things my way, with my mom. I thought—I thought I was keeping everybody safe, that I was... I don't know. Stronger, I guess, on my own. But I was wrong. We're all better when we're together, a real pack, and you're the center of that. You make mistakes, I know, but you also make us all stronger."

Looking up at her, at the serious set of her face, the sincerity in her eyes, Scott swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. He knew how loyal his friends were, those bonds having been tested in flame by Theo's scheming not so long ago, pulled and stretched to their breaking point before being reaffirmed, made more solid than ever before. He knew that. But to hear her say it, state it so plainly, with such certainty, touched him in a way few things could.

Before he could fully process what he was feeling enough to respond, she shifted, leaning forward and bringing her hands to his shoulders. "So, yeah, you're taking a risk now," she said, leaning over him, giving him nowhere to look but her face. "We all are. Things could go _really_ badly. But maybe they won't. Maybe we save Bryan's life. We've gotta try, right?"

Her little speech gave him time to pull himself together, so when she paused and arched an eyebrow, he nodded slowly. "Yeah, we need to try." His voice was thick with emotion as he brought his hands to her sides, careful to avoid her injured ribs.

"Feel better now?" she asked, lips quirking up in a little smile.

For a second, he was quiet, considering. Then, slowly, he nodded, a matching smile lighting up his own face. "I do. I mean, we still need a plan, but this helped." It really had. Nothing had been solved, all the problems still remained, but just getting things out there, giving them voice made things seem just a little lighter, a little brighter, not quite as heavy as before. "Thanks, Malia. I think... I forget sometimes how much it helps to talk about stuff, y'know?"

"I know, Scott. I've got that same problem. But I don't want either of us to be like that anymore. We're together, and that means more than just hanging out and great sex." His smile morphed into a grin at that, but she shot him a warning look and pressed on before he could comment. "We agreed to be open with each other, right? Well, that goes beyond just how we feel about each other. If there's something making you feel like shit, talk to me. I want to help."

"I will," he promised, eyes never straying from hers. "It's a two-way street though. You do for me, I do for you."

"I know." Gently, she patted his cheek, then slid off him, rising and stretching expansively. He watched her, admiring the view, until she extended a hand to him and pulled him up next to her. "Now," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him to her. "We need to sleep. I'm, like, sixty seconds from passing out, and I know you're no better off. Just... for tonight, try to put everything aside, all right? Sleep on it, and we'll figure something out tomorrow."

"Yeah," he replied through a smile as he drew her close, buried his face in her hair. "Yeah, we will."

Even though his voice was muffled, he could hear the confidence ringing in it, the confidence he'd been unable to find all night. Frustration, doubt were pushed aside, replaced by determination, hope, and the belief that between them, the pack, they'd find away to deal with their issue without crossing that bright red line. And considering the mindset he'd been in not even an hour ago, that had to be some kind of miracle.

Except it wasn't a miracle, he realised, as Malia led him to the bed, pulled him down alongside her, settled in. It was _her_. It was the connection between them, a bond unlike any he'd experienced before, that made him stronger, supported him, lent him a little clarity when he needed it most. In that moment, lying there, he finally admitted to himself exactly how he felt about her, what she meant to him.

He loved her.

For days, he'd been subconsciously tap-dancing around that concept, that truth, not because he doubted his feelings for her, or hers for him, but because for him, saying those words out loud changed things. They meant something, something big, and despite what she'd said the other night, a part of him couldn't help but think maybe voicing them would be pressing just a little too far, too fast. She'd almost said it too, of course, in the bathroom. Almost. But she'd been emotional, angry, and she'd stopped herself. Maybe because she saw things the same way he did. Or maybe for some other reason. He couldn't be sure.

None of that mattered now. Because he was sure, and he wasn't going to try to pretend he wasn't. In such a short time, she'd become essential to him, the most important person in his life, and if that wasn't love, he didn't know what was.

Swallowing, Scott looked down at her, where she was lying with her head on the pillow next to him, one arm thrown across his chest, and a leg hooked over his. Her eyes were closed, breathing deep, even, already well on her way to slumber.

"Hey," he said softly. "You awake?"

She let out a muffled groan and cracked her eyes open. "No."

He grinned at that and twitched his shoulder, rocking her pillow enough to draw a half-hearted glare from her. "You sure? 'Cause I wanted to tell you something." Pausing, he took a deep breath. "Malia, I—"

His words died as her arm abruptly swung up, her hand clamping down over his mouth. "Sleep now," she murmured drowsily, eyes already closed again. "Talk tomorrow."

A part of him wanted to press on, the urge to tell her, to say the words now that he was acknowledging them to himself nearly overpowering. But he hesitated as his fingers closed around her wrist. It wasn't the time. They were both exhausted, beaten down by the situation and the circumstance. This was a good thing, a great thing. The best thing. It deserved its own moment, not one tainted by the shadow of something dark.

It could wait, he told himself, as he pressed a kiss to her palm and gently guided her arm back down to rest across his chest. The moment would come.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

The sound of his phone vibrating against his bedside table jarred Scott awake the next morning. Still half-asleep, he threw out a hand, fumbling around blind, trying to cut it off before it woke up Malia too. He inadvertently sent his wallet flying, but finally managed to find the phone, briefly squinting through bleary eyes at the display before he answered it.

"Yeah?" he muttered, voice thick with sleep.

When nobody responded, he looked at the display again and grimaced. One missed call from Lydia. He'd known he'd be getting a call from her, and probably Stiles too at some point, after the abbreviated explanation he'd given them last night. For a brief second, he considered calling her back. But it was still early, only just past six, so after a second, he tossed the phone back on the table and closed his eyes. She could call back later.

Before he could slip back off into sleep, the sound of voices coming from downstairs began to filter up to him. His door was closed, so they were muffled, but he was pretty sure he could hear his mom, along with a deeper voice it took him a second longer to identify as Argent's.

"Who called?"

Turning his head, he looked to his left and found Malia looking back. She was lying on her stomach, one hand under her pillow, the other on the bed between them. When their eyes met, she smiled softly, the smile of somebody still on the cusp between sleep and wakefulness, and he couldn't help but grin back. He liked seeing her like that, open, relaxed, before the world could intrude.

"Lydia."

"Of course," she muttered, before a wide yawn split her face. Rocking her shoulders, she drew in a deep breath through her nose, then frowned. "Ugh. It's way too early to be awake."

Chuckling, he nodded. "Yeah, it really is. Feels like I just fell asleep." Memories of the night before were sitting there, right at the edge of his mind, and he concentrated hard on keeping them there for now. He wasn't ready to let all that come crashing back down on him just yet. Not when he was so warm and comfortable, bathed in muted sunlight, safe in their little bubble for the moment. Turning onto his side, he reached out and rested a hand on her back, between the straps of her top. "Go back to sleep. We've got time. I'm just gonna go check on my mom, make sure Argent's okay."

She just nodded, mouth twisting in another smile, one he mirrored as he rolled toward her and pressed his lips to hers. It was meant to be a quick kiss, and a second later, he pulled away and turned to slide out of bed.

Before he could move, Malia flung her arm across him, fingers curling around his bicep, holding him in place. "If you think that's gonna cut it," she breathed, as she slid over him, "you're out of your mind."

His arms went around her as she leaned in for a long, lingering kiss, one he was only too happy lose himself in. Her lips on his, soft but demanding, moving hungrily, like she couldn't get enough of him. He couldn't think of a better way to start day. And when she finally pulled away, flushed, grinning, he gently brushed her hair back from her face and was absolutely certain he'd never seen anything more beautiful. To his surprise, her flush deepened under his gaze and she shifted slightly, looking off to the side, away from him.

"What?" he prompted, bemused, as he brushed his thumb over her cheek.

"It's nothing," she said, ducking her head, but he persisted, sliding his hand under her chin, gently pressing until she looked up, met his eyes. "It's just, the way you look at me sometimes, like I'm... I don't know. You look at me like I'm _special_ or something and I just—" She smiled sheepishly, looking more self-conscious than he'd ever seen her. "I guess I'm just not used to that, and—"

Her words ended in a breathless huff as Scott abruptly moved, rolling over, reversing their positions. As he settled between her legs, he crushed his lips against hers, one hand sliding under her pillow, the other clasped to the side of her head, fingers threaded through her hair. If she was surprised by the sudden shift, she didn't show it, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him tighter to her, giving back every ounce of passion she could feel, could taste in his kiss.

"Get used to it," he told her, voice husky, when they broke apart, "because you are special. You're so many things. I see you."

Eyes flashing, she huffed out a breath halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "What do you see?"

"Everything." He kissed her again, softer, quicker. "You're smart." Again, the corner of her mouth. "You're fearless." Her jaw. "You're strong." Her shoulder. "You're loyal." Her throat, as she moaned and tilted her head to give him access. "You're gorgeous." Her neck. "You are _incredible_. And..." He trailed off, went still, silent, face buried in the curve of her neck.

"And?" she prompted breathlessly after about five seconds.

His lips curled into a smile against her skin. The moment.

"And," he murmured, as he slowly drew back, rising up so he could look at her. "I love all of it. I love every part of you." His eyes bored into hers. "I love you."

As sure as he was of how he felt, how _she_ felt, there was still a brief moment after he said the words that time seemed to slow down to a crawl, the world fading into the background, while he waited for her response. The only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat, pounding loud in his ears, his vision narrowed down to just her face, everything else pushed to the periphery, like it didn't exist. It didn't exist. Not to him. Not in that moment. There was only her.

"I love you too."

The words came quiet, soft, but their impact was like a bomb going off. All of a sudden he was grinning and so was she, elated laughter filling the air. Then he was kissing her. Or maybe she was kissing him. He wasn't sure, didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the feel of her moving against him, the taste of her lips, the echo of what they'd just said ringing in his ears.

When they broke apart, he leaned his head down on her shoulder, and was absolutely certain his smile would never leave his face again. For a moment, he lied there, still, just listening to her laboured breathing, revelling in the moment, as her fingers absently played in his hair. It was only when he felt her move, heard a little laugh spilling from her lips that he slowly raised his head and arched an eyebrow in question.

"Sorry," she said, "I just... that's not something I say very often. I thought it would be harder. But it's not. It's easy, so easy, with you."

Hearing her words, seeing the emotion dancing in her eyes, Scott had to take a deep breath, his heart jumping in his chest. He could see the love on her face, the love for him, the love he'd been seeing, been feeling. It made things different now, having that out in the open, both sides knowing exactly where the other stood. Not in how he felt. He'd have loved her whether he ever said the words or not. But there was something about saying it, hearing it back that made everything else a little brighter, a little happier, a little better.

"It's because I'm just so lovable," he teased, voice husky.

"Sure," she replied, grinning, "that must be it."

Chuckling, he leaned down, sinking into another kiss, starting slow, lingering, turning fiery as hearts beat faster, gentle became demanding, passion took control. Hands slipped under clothes, finding warm skin, grasping, clutching as they lost themselves in the moment, in each other.

He would have been more than happy to spend the rest of the day like that, locked together with her, connected in every way. It was impossible to worry about things, think about anything else, when all he could taste, smell, hear, and feel was her. But reality refused to be ignored, and eventually, the unmistakable sound of his phone vibrating once again managed to filter through his fogged mind, dragging him back out of the moment.

"We could ignore it," he offered when he pulled back and saw her sour expression. "It's probably Lydia. She might just think we're still sleeping."

For a second, she hesitated, considering, before letting out a heavy sigh and slowly shaking her head. "No, answer it. You know she'll be over here before long if you keep ignoring her." Pressing her hands to his chest, she frowned as she pushed him up, until he was on his knees, straddling her hips. "We can't stay in bed all day anyway. Kinda have some stuff we need to deal with."

He grimaced at the reminder. "Yeah, unfortunately. But not quite yet."

Before she could respond, he leaned back down and stole a kiss, then threw himself off her, rolling onto his back and reaching for his phone. As his hand closed around it, he looked back, found her watching him, amusement written all over her face, and shot her a wink. He knew it was silly, but he couldn't help it. He was in a good mood, the greatest mood, and even though he knew it was almost certainly going to be a long, frustrating day, he just couldn't find it in him right then to be anything other than joyful.

"It's a text," he said a second later, as he opened his messages. Scanning it, he let out a soft snort and shook his head. "Unbelievable. _Get up, we're coming over_." Turning his head, he met her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Well, when you're right, you're right. Good call."

"I'm always right."

"Of course. Except for all those times when you're not."

"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head in denial. "Those don't count. Either I'm right, or it didn't happen. Sorry, I don't make the rules. That's just the way it is."

He managed to keep a straight face for about three seconds before his lips started twitching. As soon as he broke, a grin spreading across his face, she followed suit, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, as he leaned in toward her, lips finding hers, one last taste before they had to venture back out into the world. "All right, I'd better get down there before they get here. You can go back to sleep if you want. I'll keep everybody downstairs."

As he slid out of bed, she sat up and stretched, slowly shaking her head. "No, I don't think I could sleep right now." Meeting his gaze, she arched an eyebrow, a little smirk twisting her mouth. "Kinda amped up. Not sure why."

"Yeah, it's a real mystery," he deadpanned over his shoulder as grabbed a shirt out of his dresser and tugged it on, stepping toward the door. She huffed out an amused breath, and he heard the bed springs creak a second before her feet hit the floor. Pausing at the door, he turned back, found her about to head into the bathroom. "Malia." She stopped, look back at him, eyebrow raised, questioning. "Love you."

The smile that spread across her face then was one he'd never forget, the kind that was only for him, made him feel like he was ten feet tall just for bringing it out of her.

"Love you too, Scott."

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"So how do we do it?" Stiles asked, words slightly muffled because he'd just dropped his face into his hands. "How do we take out a raging beast _without_ killing it—or dying—in the process?" That was the million dollar question, the one they'd been talking over, brainstorming, for the last twenty minutes, ever since they'd arrived.

After coming downstairs, Scott had briefly spoken with his exhausted mother, who informed him Argent was going to be staying with them for awhile, before she disappeared upstairs to get some sleep. The man in question was in the living room, set up on the couch, looking like he'd gone twelve rounds with a professional boxer, but in pretty good spirits overall. He'd been in the middle of promising to stay on his phone, keep working his contacts despite his injuries when there'd been a knock on the door, and Lydia and Stiles made their entrance. They'd congregated in the kitchen then, leaving Argent in peace, and talk had quickly turned to their next move.

Unfortunately, if there was an answer, it was avoiding them so far. Lydia had thrown a few suggestions out, but they were half-hearted at best, too obviously flawed for any real consideration.

"Hey, I've got it," Stiles said, perking up suddenly and looking around the room, "what if you guys all just, like, jumped on him? You, Malia, Derek, Liam, Hayden, just everybody. Like, just beat the crap out of him." He crashed his fist against his palm and cocked an eyebrow. "I mean, he's strong, but he's not that strong, right? He can't take _all_ of you." He frowned at the disbelieving looks everybody was shooting him. " _What_? You don't think that would work?"

Scott smiled faintly over his coffee cup and shook his head. "I think that might be a bit too risky. On both sides. What do you think happens if he takes a chunk out of Hayden and sets Liam off? That immediately becomes a fight to the death, which is kinda what I'm trying to avoid. Because either way, we lose something. And I don't—"

"Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way."

Turning in his seat, he watched as Malia made her way into the room, her first appearance since he'd left her up in his room earlier. Even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't have kept the grin off his face at the sight of her, distantly aware of how it probably looked to his friends given their current topic of conversation, and completely unable to care about it. He took it as a positive, that she could bring that out of him so easily, regardless of what he was dealing with.

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked as she dropped into the open chair next to Scott.

"The wolfsbane. It weakens him, right? That's the whole point. He's just too much to deal with at full strength. We need to bring him down a bit, make him manageable."

"Yeah, pretty much. So?"

She rolled her eyes. "So, whatever new plan we have probably has to do the same thing. Not necessarily take him completely out, just, y'know, bring him down closer to our level, so we can deal with him a little easier. I mean, as he is, he's too dangerous to just keep on throwing ourselves at. So we have to change him somehow, right? " Pausing, she reached out and snagged Scott's coffee off the table, shrugging as she took a sip. "Sorry, I don't know. I was thinking about it in the shower." She frowned and shook her head. "Ignore me."

Scott shook his head, opening his mouth to respond, to encourage her to keep going, but Lydia beat him to it.

"No," she said, eyes lighting up as she slapped her palm down on the table. "No, you're right! The problem isn't that he's too powerful or too out of control. It's that he's both. If we can find a way to mitigate one of those, it'll give us a chance to find a more permanent solution."

Across the table, Scott could see the wheels turning behind her eyes, seizing on the suggestion and going to work. He knew that look, knew she was in her element, tackling a problem that didn't appear to have a solution, and he felt the hope he'd been nursing since the previous night flare up a little brighter. Instinctively, his hand found Malia's, dangling next to him, and squeezed, a silent thanks for getting things moving in the right direction.

Feeding on the abrupt shift of the room's mood, Stiles leaned toward his girlfriend, nodding. "Okay, all right. So how do we do that then, if we can't get the wolfsbane?"

As the room fell silent, everybody considering the question, Scott's mind jumped to all the times he'd had to deal with shifters who lacked control. Liam. Malia, at times. Even himself, after he'd first turned, emotions running high, the upheaval in his life combining with the sudden power, new instincts, different drives. All dangerous situations, yet all ultimately resolved with no real lasting negative impact on anybody involved. And all sharing the same massive, glaring difference from the Bryan Cobb issue.

"The Alpha power."

The words came out soft, quiet, more him thinking out loud than actually talking to anybody. But they drew the attention of everybody in the room.

"What?"

"He's an Alpha," he repeated. "That's the problem. It's not the grief. It's not whatever underlying control issues he had. I mean, those definitely don't help. But it's the power that's the issue. He wasn't expecting it, wasn't ready for it and it broke him. That initial surge when you first become an Alpha is... hard to describe," he continued, trying his best to explain it so the others could grasp just how profound it was. "You sort of feel like you're bigger than the world, like the ground shakes when you walk, like there's nothing you couldn't do. It's... I don't know. It's pretty crazy."

"Okay," Stiles interjected, "it's super intense. We get it. Uh, last time I checked, you didn't lose your mind when your eyes went red. Neither did Derek. So why did Bryan?"

"Because it wasn't supposed to happen." Leaning forward, he crossed his arms on the table and stared at his friend. "What do we know about Alphas? A lot of them rise like Derek and Peter did, by killing another one. They want the power, they're actively chasing it, for whatever reason. Or they're like Laura. She was the eldest child. Derek told me his mom was prepping her since she was a kid, so when it happened, she was ready for it. But Bryan..." Frowning, he shook his head. "He wasn't looking for power. And if I had to guess, he wasn't expecting to ever get it. Three older siblings. One of them would have been next in line. Throw his other issues in there and you see what kind of a mess it all adds up to. All that power flooding him broke his brain. That's what's fueling him now, making him so volatile. He just can't process the power."

"So what do we do about that?" Spreading his arms, Stiles looked around the room, eyes wide, questioning. "If the problem is him being an Alpha, how do we make it so he isn't one anymore? Suggestions, anyone?"

His words seemed to sap all air out of the room. To Scott, it almost literally felt like he was deflating, the slow build of momentum, of energy he'd been feeling as he talked suddenly disappearing, gone in a flash. Because he didn't know. It was like hitting a wall, and as he slumped in his chair, he could see the others doing the same, their expressions part considering, part sour.

When Malia abruptly rose, his now-empty cup in her hand, and headed over to the sink, he sighed and leaned forward, rubbing at his temples. "Well," he said slowly, "we know an Alpha can burn out their spark healing somebody. I don't think that's really gonna help us here though."

"What about what happened to the twins?" Stiles offered, shooting Lydia an apologetic look at the mention of Aiden.

"Yeah, but that wasn't intentional," Scott replied, looking up at his friend. "She was trying to kill them. They just happened to survive." Dropping his head back into his hands, he groaned softly, then sat up and took a deep breath. Despite the way things were going, a lot of the brightness of the morning was still lingering, and he was determined to hold onto it for as long as possible, to be positive. "Okay, this is something though. It's a place to start."

"Call Derek," Stiles suggested. "Maybe he knows something useful."

Before he could respond, Lydia shook her head, lips pursed. "Peter might be a better option." At the incredulous look they shot her, she rolled her eyes. "Derek didn't even know about the healing thing until Peter told him. I know you'd rather not involve him, but if he can help..." She trailed off, raising an eyebrow as she met his gaze.

He grimaced, but reluctantly nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Still though." The last thing he wanted was to bring in the former Alpha. He knew him well enough to know there was no way he was out of the picture yet, but the longer he could put off dealing with him, the better for everybody. "I don't even know if he'd agree to help me at this point."

"Maybe not," she allowed. "But you have to try."

"Not necessarily." They all looked over to the counter, where Malia was leaning, her arms crossed. "Peter's an option," she continued, eyes focusing on Scott's. "But he's not our only one. We need info on Alphas, right? We know other people who are kind of experts on the subject, don't we? Even more than he is."

It took a second for what she was saying to sink in. When it did, Scott immediately reached for his phone. "I'll text him," he muttered as he scrolled through his contacts. "I don't know if he's in town though. I haven't seen or heard from him since we took out the Beast."

"If he is," Lydia said, catching onto who they were talking about, "he'll know what's going on. He would have heard that roar last night."

Stiles was a little slower to catch on, looking between the three of them in confusion, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. A second later, it dawned on him and his eyes widened comically. "Wait, are we talking about Deucalion?" Scott grunted an acknowledgement as Lydia nodded. "Really? You want to bring him into this mess too? Don't we have enough monster werewolves wandering around as it is?"

"He helped with the Beast," Lydia said softly, nudging him with her elbow.

"Yeah, but—"

"Would you rather deal with Peter?" Scott interjected as he sent the text and looked up at his friend, tossing his phone down on the table.

Truthfully, he'd rather neither got involved. Talking with Peter meant a guaranteed headache and inevitable fight of some kind, and though Deucalion had turned out to be a useful ally when they needed him, all the blood on his claws was impossible to look past. In a perfect world, they'd both disappear from Beacon Hills and never come back. But it wasn't a perfect world, and with the way things were going, he didn't have the luxury of overlooking potential aid because of his personal distaste for the source. And when it came down to it, he actually trusted Deucalion to be more of a help in this specific situation than Peter. At least he didn't have to worry about the British wolf scheming to kill Bryan for his power.

Across the table, Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, froze for a second, then shrugged. "I honestly don't know the answer to that," he finally said. "They both scare the shit out of me." He wrinkled his nose. "We really need to find some better allies. Preferably ones who _haven't_ tried to kill us before."

Chuckling, Scott nodded. "Yeah, you're not wrong, but, uh, I guess beggars really can't be choosers."

The group descended into silence then, as they waited for a response. Scott kept his eyes on his phone, as Stiles drummed his fingers on the table and Lydia tapped her foot. After a moment, the inactivity started getting to him, so he got to his feet and joined Malia by the sink, where she was filling two coffee cups. She wordlessly handed one to him, flashing him a small smile, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek before settling in next to her, leaning back against the counter.

As he took a sip, he saw both of their friends watching them, matching smirks on their faces, and cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

Stiles threw up his hands, fighting a grin. "Nothing! You guys just look very, uh..."

"Comfortable," Lydia supplied.

"Yeah. Comfortable." He directed his gaze to Malia, arching an eyebrow. "Speaking of, what's the deal? You look all, I don't know, at home or something. Do you, like, live here now or what?"

Meeting his eyes over the top of her cup, she shrugged. "Kind of."

Before the teasing could start in earnest, Scott's phone went off, drawing everybody's attention to the table. The closest to it, Stiles reached out and grabbed it. "Should I check it?" He waited for the nod, then grimaced, hesitating. "Am I gonna see something I don't want to see on here?"

"Nah, don't worry. All the fun pictures are on Malia's phone."

The laughter of the two girls filled the room, and he shot his best friend a teasing grin, but Stiles chose not to engage. Instead, he focused on the message, ignoring their amusement, and read it aloud. "Eight o'clock. Buster's." He pursed his lips. "That's it. I guess he wants to meet."

Scott looked at the clock over the stove. Nearly seven-thirty. "All right, guess we're in business. Text him back, tell him I'm on my way. We're on our way," he quickly amended when he caught Malia's raised eyebrow. "I'm gonna go get dressed, then we go."

As he turned and headed for his room, he couldn't help but grin, feeling strangely buoyed all of a sudden. It wasn't much, just a talk that might not lead anywhere at all, but just knowing he was finally doing _something_ felt good. Suddenly, the dark hours of the night before seemed so far away, the frustration and the doubt just a bad memory, a moment of weakness that seemed ridiculous now that he was looking back from the other side, now that he was seeing things from a different perspective, a brighter one.

He had the beginning of a plan. He had more optimism than ever. He had his friends backing him up. He had the girl he loved at his side. And he had hope, hope that things were going to turn out all right for everybody. Things were looking up.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _Six months. I honestly thought I might never update again. Completely lost all feeling I had for this story. But it started coming back recently, once I committed to changing the direction I'd been taking it. It turns out I needed to do a bit of a course correction, in a way. Too much focus on the Cobb storyline pretty much killed it for me. And I can't drop that entirely, but the plan is to downplay it somewhat from now until the end (which will be soon). Which might not be evident considering about 4000 of the words you presumably just read were dedicated to it. But this is just the setup for what I want to do next. Fuck it, right? I got into this for the Scott/Malia love, and I'm going to live or die by that. Possibly to this story's detriment, but hopefully not. Enjoy._


End file.
